The Edge of Madness
by Aryk von Straln
Summary: The Eternal Champion. The Hero of Daggerfall. The Nerevarine. The Hero of Kvatch. The Divine Crusader. It has been centuries since their like have been seen in Tamriel and now, as a new evil approaches, there are none able to take up the title of 'Hero'. It will fall to a lonely figure from Tamriel's past to take up the mantle he discarded, to save a world he abandoned long ago.
1. An Old Friend Comes AKnockin

**The Edge of Madness**

**Chapter 1: An Old Friend Comes A-Knockin'**

Two figures made their way through the empty streets of Bliss, the brighter half of New Sheoth, the Shivering Isles only true city. Both were dressed in somber gray cloaks that clashed spectacularly with the surrounding environment though that was hardly the oddest thing about the duo.

The first stood at a good ten feet tall and a little over half that wide. His stride echoed with the resounding thud one would associate with someone wearing heavy armor and flashes of said armor, made of some silvery metal, could be seen under his cloak with each step. The few Aureals on patrol stared in shock and quickly stood aside to let the figure pass with respectful bows as he made his way purposefully towards the brightly lit New Sheoth Palace.

His companion, a middle-aged Imperial male, was much plainer in appearance with shoulder length brown hair and a round face deeply etched from stress and age. He wore the simple gray robes of a priest underneath his cloak and looked around with the unrestrained curiosity of a scholar in an unfamiliar place.

As the pair made their way up the steps leading to the main doors more Aureals, and their counterparts the Mazken, parted with awed and curious looks plastered on their faces. The taller of the two didn't even falter in his stride as he neared the doors, simply pushing them open with a mailed hand and stalking into the main Hall.

There was a rather lively banquet being held with members of both the Houses of Mania and Dementia in attendance, eating, drinking, dancing and plotting with and against each other. Many of them stopped cold at the sight of the figure towering over them, lowering utensils and goblets back to the table, stepping away from partners and, discretely, sheathing poisoned daggers .

And sitting languidly on his throne with his chin propped on his hand, Sheogorath himself smiled gleefully when his pale eyes settled on the intruder to his Hall.

"Oh ho HO!" The Mad God crowed exultantly as he leaned forward. "And what brings the least loved of the Nine Divines, the Man-God, Talos, ol' Tiber Septim himself, to my humble Hall?"

"A mutual friend," the now revealed Divine rumbled as his cloak peeled away and disappeared into thin air, leaving Talos standing there in all of his shiny, martial glory.

Now normally such a sight would be enough to keep Sheogorath enthralled for days or perhaps bore him to tears or, and more annoyingly to a particular Divine, decide that _nothing_ should be that shiny and promptly douse him with tar.

In point of fact he was on the cusp of doing one of those very things, though which one was up for debate since it was doubtful even the Mad God himself would know till the moment he actually _did_, when the "mutual friend" Talos spoke of stepped out from behind the God of War and caught Sheogorath's eye.

A moment later the other was caught up with it's mate and Sheogorath stood rather abruptly, his earlier cheer gone and his normally gleaming eyes now carefully blank.

"Everyone..._out_," he declared with a quiet calmness that, quite frankly, scared his subjects even further out of their minds. "Except you, Haskill. You get to stay."

There was a flurry of activity as his subjects rushed to obey their Mad God's command, those of the Houses of Mania and Dementia trampling each other in a near frenzy while the Aureals and Mazken moved with more discipline and purpose. In short order the Hall was cleared as the last trampled body was dragged out the door and slammed them forcefully closed.

"Be with you in a just moment," Sheogorath murmured, his previously thick accent nearly gone.

The remaining beings in the room watched with interest as the Mad God slipped his fingers under the ruffled collar of his dual colored regalia and gripped the flesh at the base of his neck. As he did that the Prince of Madness seemed to fold into himself before their very eyes until all they could see was his lower half and the top of his head.

Sheogorath stayed that way for a moment before straightening back up to his full height with the sickening sounds of flesh ripping and bone snapping once, and then again. Sheogorath's face, eye's and mouth nothing but gaping black holes, landed on the floor at his feet with a dull splat, leaving an entirely different person standing in his place.

He was a Breton, though slightly larger than the average specimen one would likely meet in Tamriel, standing at just a little over six feet with the powerful build of a warrior used to combat. His hair and beard were trimmed in the exact same way that Sheogorath's had been though his hair was longer, hanging down to his shoulder blades, and instead of being gray was a sandy blond.

The only thing that didn't change drastically were his eyes. The iris' simply darkened until they were a light gray just barely darker than the whites around them. They were, however, far more expressive than their previous blank expanses and positively dancing with happiness, much like their owner as he made his way down from his throne towards his guests.

He leaped down the last couple of steps and the moment his feet touched the ground the Hall shortened so suddenly that the brown haired Imperial nearly stumbled into the rib crushing hug the Prince of Madness enveloped him in.

"Martin," he cried happily as he picked up and spun the man around gaily. "It's so good to see you again, Big Brother!"

"It's good to see you again too, Aldanon," the now named Martin replied with a quiet laugh. "It's been a long time, Little Brother."

Sheogorath, or rather Aldanon, set his "Big Brother" back down and nodded thoughtfully, still grinning like a loon.

"Two centuries is 'a long time' indeed," Aldanon remarked with a quiet chuckle. "You're looking pretty good for a dead man nearing his two hundred and fifty-sixth birthday."

"You still haven't changed, bringing up my age the first chance you get," Martin shot back playfully. "And look at you! I honestly didn't think your star could soar any higher than it had and yet here you are. A god. _The_ Mad God himself!"

"Well...I don't like to brag," Aldanon said with a sheepish grin.

"Much," Haskill's dry voice interjected.

"Oh hush you," Aldanon said waving a hand dismissively in the general direction of his smirking Chamberlain.

Aldanon nodded respectfully to his fellow deity as he ascended the steps back up to his throne and settled himself comfortably therein. With a snap of the Mad God's fingers the throne area reshaped itself, the dais lowering till Aldanon's feet settled comfortably on the floor of the Hall. Before him the stone rose into a table similar in shape to the old wayshrines one could find scattered across Cyrodiil, rather tastefully decorated with the blessings of Talos along it's fringe. Two thrones similar to the Prince's own, one noticeably larger than the other, formed across from him decorated accordingly for their recipients.

Talos removed his helmet, revealing an ageless face and a head completely devoid of hair, and placed it reverently on the table. He ran his mailed fingers approvingly over the writing, rites commonly used by his priests before the Great War and the advent of the White-Gold Concordat, along the table's edge as he took his seat. Martin had a melancholy smile on his face as he took a moment to examine his own throne decorated with the symbols of the Septim Emperors, a position he'd held officially for only a few short hours before giving his life to force Mehrunes Dagon from Tamriel and prevent his return.

"Firstly I'd like to apologize for my comments upon your arrival," Aldanon said, directing his words to Talos. "When I wear the face of Sheogorath such things come naturally and my tongue has a tendency to run away from me at times."

"No apology is necessary," Talos replied. "Tact isn't normally something to be expected from the Prince of Madness after all."

"Not that I was often accused of having much even before my ascension," Aldanon remarked, sharing an amused smirk with Martin. "And while I could spend years catching up with Martin here I doubt that this is a simple social call."

Aldanon leaned forward intently. "So tell me, what brings two of the greatest Septims to ever live from Aetherius to my little slice of Oblivion?"

"Something dire no doubt knowing your luck, My Liege," Haskill said with a long suffering sigh.

"I said hush, Haskill."

"Unfortunately your Chamberlain is entirely correct," Martin confirmed with a grimace. "An evil is approaching Tamriel that threatens every living being on Nirn. In time, not even the dead will be safe from it's power."

"And does this mysterious, all-devouring evil have a name?" Aldanon inquired archly.

"'All-devouring' is an apt description, even if spoken in jest," Talos replied gravely. "Alduin the World Eater, the First-Born of Akatosh now threatens the existence of the Divine's greatest creation."

"Alduin," Aldanon repeated slowly, as though tasting the unfamiliar word. "'Fraid the name doesn't ring a bell. First-Born of Akatosh though? Daddy's little angel going to throw a tantrum?"

"Hardly an 'angel', Aldanon," Martin said, not even bothering to hide his snort of amusement. "Alduin is a dragon. The first dragon as a matter of fact and one with enough divine power flowing through him to be a minor god capable of crossing the barriers separating Aetherius from Nirn and _keep_ that power."

"As for a 'tantrum' as you so eloquently put it," Talos picked up where his descendant left off. "He has already rebelled once, many thousands of years ago, and paid the price for it. A hero of that age used an Elder Scroll to cast Alduin from the mortal plane and send him adrift through Time itself but it was unfortunately only a temporary solution. Alduin has recently managed to escape from his makeshift prison and is gathering his power to raise his fellow dragons and begin the purge of Nirn."

"Okay," Aldanon drawled. "But that still doesn't answer my question. What does this have to do with me? I may not be a 'proper' deity like my fellows but I still hold absolute power here in the Shivering Isles and this Alduin would be a fool to challenge me in my own home. Surely you have a hero or two all lined up and ready to throw at this threat..._right_?"

The last word was accompanied by a suspicious glare as an idea began to percolate in Aldanon's mind, and idea that gained momentum at the sheepish look on Martin's face and the carefully blank one Talos leveled at him.

"Thanks to you and the machinations of Sheogorath we do not," Talos replied in a clipped tone.

Seeing his old friend about to retort sharply, Martin spoke up. "A specific kind of hero is needed to defeat Alduin and his ilk. One blessed by Akatosh himself, known throughout history as the Dragonborn."

"Dragonborn?" Aldanon echoed. "As in the Dragonborn Emperors of the Septim line?"

"Indeed. My kin and I were some of the more prominent ones to bear the title though the true potential of the blessing lay untapped as the centuries passed until Martin here unleashed it's most powerful aspect against Dagon. However we are not the only ones to bear this power."

"Interesting knowledge to be sure but I'm still not seeing how this pertains to me."

"Oh honestly, My Liege," Haskill broke in exasperatedly. "They mean that y_ou_ are one of these...Dragonborn was it?"

"Indeed," Talos confirmed. "Despite your murderous tendencies and faith in that Void spawned filth Sithis, Akatosh saw fit to grant you and your bloodline his blessing in the hopes that, when the time came, the Pendragon name would be one the people of Tamriel could rely upon again."

The tall Divine scowled heavily before continuing. "But then that fool Sheogorath lured you into his domain and trapped you here in his place, throwing everything out of balance."

The braziers lining the Hall flickered ominously as Aldanon narrowed his eyes at Talos. "The Dread Father does not need me to defend Him from the likes of you but I'll thank you to hold your tongue in regards to my predecessor. What was done to Jyggalag was reprehensible and no matter how ill used I may have felt at the time or how much of a burden it became _nor_ how much it throws your precious _destiny_ off course I do not regret my actions in the slightest."

Talos swelled in anger at his words but Aldanon was not finished. "And _again_ you skirt around the issue. _What does this have to do with me_? You said it yourself, you and your line were simply the most well known of the Dragonborn. There must be others still out there that carry Akatosh's blessing that'd be more than happy to run around at your beck and call to play the hero. _Why. Should. I_?"

Talos deflated as Aldanon finished his rant and sighed tiredly as he made to stand and leave. Martin however held up a hand pleadingly to halt his ancestor, who narrowed his eyes at the disciple of Akatosh before sitting back down with a huff to Martin's obvious relief.

"If it's answers you want then I'll give them to you," he began under Aldanon's scrutiny. "In the last fifty years all but three Dragonborn lines died out and they are dangerously close to being snuffed out forever. One of those three was a general in charge of the Eighth Legion who died when the Aldmeri took the Imperial City during the Great War. The second is an old, crippled grape farmer living outside of Skingrad whose children were taken and killed by the Thalmor for worshiping Talos. It's doubtful he'll live more than a few more months at the most."

Seeing that he had his friend's full and undivided attention, Martin continued. "The last is an orphan child in Skyrim, a young girl not even old enough to walk much less do battle with a god. Although there is a _chance_ that she could eventually grow up to be the savior of Nirn, Akatosh...he..."

"He is not confident in that chance," Aldanon finished quietly, getting a mute nod from Martin.

"He sees too many futures where she is killed by beasts and monsters, men or mer, dragons, even Alduin himself should he discover her before she is ready leaving the world to burn in the fires of Alduin's wrath," Talos spoke up, grudgingly. "You are the only one with the power and skill to stop Alduin _now_, before his own power grows too great."

Aldanon slumped back in his throne, throwing a pensive look towards Haskill as he considered the dilemma.

"Is it even possible for me to return to Tamriel after being here for so long?" He asked no one in particular.

"Of course, My Liege," Haskill replied without hesitation. "You would be forced to leave the bulk of your power here to anchor yourself but it is entirely possible for you to walk and interact with the mortal realm as you once did."

"Even diminished you'd wield more power there than you ever could when you were a mortal," Martin picked up eagerly, encouraged by Aldanon's lack of refusal. "You'd be stronger and faster than ever before and your magical might would be unmatched by any mortal alive today."

"Stronger you say? Stronger than...oh say Mannimarco?" Aldanon inquired remembering his desperate battles, despite being acclaimed as the most powerful battlemage in the Empire at the time, against the Altmer necromancer in the years after the Crisis.

"Mannimarco is anything but mortal thanks to the events in High Rock and Hammerfell so long ago," Talos interjected. "But yes it is likely that in a magical contest between you, you would be able to overpower the foul creature. You would also be crossing the barriers with the consent of the Nine thus..."

"...allowing me to keep more of my divine spark and afford me a measure of invulnerability," Aldanon finished.

He frowned though as he realized something important. "You said that Alduin had enough divinity to cross from Mundus to Aetherius though, which would mean that he too enjoys all the same perks as I would. The best I could manage is a stalemate against him and while we battle his minions could ravage the land nearly unopposed."

"There is a way to strip him of his invulnerability and defeat him, just like nearly any god," Martin informed him. "It was done once before to weaken Alduin enough for the ancient Nords to cast him adrift through Time. Unfortunately the method has been lost in those very same mists of Time and Akatosh refuses to reveal it."

"Which means that there is a way to find it on my own then," Aldanon stated thoughtfully. "Good, I'd hate for this to be _too_ easy."

"You agree to this then?" Talos asked.

A dark grin spread across Aldanon's face. "You're damn right I agree. I'd always wanted to visit Skyrim back when I was mortal and I've missed Tamriel over the years. That and it'll be a refreshing change to harass people directly rather than through proxy's."

Talos frowned but held his tongue on the matter. Unleashing the Prince of Madness on Tamriel was a small price to pay to save his people, and the world, from destruction.

"Very well then," the Divine said as he collected his helm and stood, his throne melting back into the floor. "Once you have your affairs in order I suggest you leave for Tamriel as quickly as possible. I would also suggest heading for the Imperial outpost at Helgen, in southern Skyrim. It is there that Alduin will announce his return to the world and begin his great purge. It would be an excellent opportunity to take the measure of your enemy."

"I wouldn't miss it for all the cheese in the world."

Aldanon snapped his fingers as Martin stood to join his predecessor and the Hall quickly reshaped itself to it's previous form. Aldanon likewise stood and gathered his old friend once more into a rib crushing hug.

"It was good to see you again, Big Brother," he murmured, clapping Martin heartily on the back. "Don't be such a stranger in the future you hear me? I'll conjure you right out of Aetherius if I have to, don't think I can't. I've practiced a lot since our discussions in the Temple."

Martin laughed softly at that declaration as he held him out at arms length.

"I don't doubt you one bit, Little Brother," he replied fondly. "I'll be looking forward to it."

Aldanon watched as the last of the Septim Emperors joined the first in the center of the Hall. He felt it as the man turned god gathered his power around himself and his descendant, probably to make a flashy and messy exit in an attempt to intimidate or impress him. Aldanon smirked knowingly at the Divine and discreetly snapped his fingers behind his back.

As he expected Talos and Martin disappeared in a near-blinding burst of light and he could feel as the Divine's power battered against the barriers that normally prevented such forms of transport by anyone but the Prince himself. They gave way quickly under the onslaught and Aldanon could just imagine the smug satisfaction Talos must feel, thinking he'd cowed the normally unshakeable Prince of Madness.

As his shiny armor and vestments clattered to the floor however Aldanon couldn't restrain the nearly manic laughter that bubbled up from within him at the mere thought of Talos' shock, and embarrassment if he'd gone straight back to his fellow Divines to report, when he arrived at his destination buck naked. He only hoped that Martin didn't suffer any permanent scarring from the experience but no one, not even another god, would get one over on Sheogorath ever again.

"Well that was fun," he said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. "Come, Haskill. Let's raid the Treasury."

"As you will, My Liege."

* * *

**A/N: ****This particular number was inspired by Through the Portal by** FirenIce15 **but will likely be a slightly darker and more serious take on her idea.**

******Here I'm**** introducing Aldanon Pendragon, Grand Champion of the Imperial City Arena, 7th Champion of Cyrodiil, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood and Arch-Mage of the Mages Guild, Duke of Dementia and successor to the original Sheogorath (in that exact order) for those of you who aren't entirely familiar with the lore of Tamriel and previous games. Unlike other writers I don't like making characters that fill EVERY role you can find in most Elder Scrolls games. It's damn hard to make them mesh when you've got a master thief/master assassin rubbing shoulders with a group of honorable warriors who don't hold to those "cowardly, back-stabbing ways" AND studying magic (an almost taboo topic in Skyrim)**  


**That was one of the things I missed about Morrowind when Oblivion rolled around and even more so when Skyrim came along, skill requirements for faction advancement. Thanks to the scaling difficulty of encounters you can comfortably plow through the Companions questline in a few short hours which, in my opinion, is a piss poor representation of what should be a rather deep and meaningful sub-plot.**

**ANYWAYS, that means that ol'Al here won't be taking the top spot in every important organization in Skyrim though that doesn't mean he won't play some part, however small, in many lives and important events throughout Skyrim.**

**Well that's enough of my blabbing. Next chapter, Helgen and the meeting of the century!**

**A/N Mk II: Re-edited yet again. Hopefully this time I've eliminated any errors I may have missed and smartened up the presentation a bit. As the inspiration strikes me I shall be going over future chapters as well and I am officially fishing for a beta at long last. Despite my own eye for detail I simply cannot seem to catch all of my own errors either as I make them or afterwards so I am finally looking for help in my endeavors. I have one potential already, assuming he gets back to me, but I am not adverse to having other prospects in the field.**


	2. Face Off

**The Edge of Madness**

**Chapter 2: Face Off**

In the end Aldanon didn't bother loading himself down with arms and armor. Nearly everything stored in the Treasury was too awkward or inconvenient to be useful, things Sheogorath commonly foisted off on fools searching for his favor in the past, or designed for the use of beings not entirely...human.

Most of his old equipment was either gone or useless as well. He'd had to give up several of the Daedric artifacts he'd collected during his adventures upon assuming his role as Sheogorath and the enchantments on his old armor, the finest Ebony forged armor in the empire at the time, had succumbed long ago to the chaotic energy that permeated the Isles. The actual armor itself was beyond salvaging, ravaged and torn apart by vermin.

Hey, there were some pretty big vermin on the Shivering Isles!

Still, not all of his old gear was gone. Umbra, the identity-draining, soul-stealing sword that he'd refused to give to Clavicus Vile all those years ago continued to stand the test of time. Aldanon had felt the insistent tug on his mind the moment he touched the hilt but had brushed it off.

It was an insidious blade, preying upon the world weary and war ravaged, but his will was more than strong enough to overcome it's persistent siren call; that incessant whisper in his ear that asked "Wouldn't it be so much easier? To just give in and let all your worries and pain fade away?" Back when Aldanon was mortal it was just another hurdle he had to overcome but now, with the power of a god driving him, it was little more than an annoying fly. One easily swatted aside in favor of greater issues.

The familiar weight of the Skeleton Key rested securely in a pouch attached to Aldanon's belt. He'd learned an interesting fact from Nocturnal herself when he'd tried to return it after his ascension. The Key he carried was only one of many floating freely around the provinces of Tamriel, all copies of a much more powerful artifact hidden somewhere in the world though understandably she refused to say where.

He sent a silent word of thanks to Nocturnal now as he made is way down the mountains toward Helgen. Aldanon may have been able to kill a man in more than a dozen different ways, on an off day, but he had been almost completely incompetent when it came to the art of lockpicking and the Key had been one of his most jealously guarded prizes.

The last relic of his past that he still carried was the amulet that marked him as a Knight of the Thorn, the now extinct 'Order' that had based itself out of Cheydinhal. Aldanon had made a short stop at the city on the off chance he'd find his pompous friend, being one of the long lived Dunmer, only to discover that he, his knights and his father had died during the war in a valiant, if doomed, diversionary attack on the Aldmeri forces when the Emperor abandoned the Imperial City.

Like his armor the enchantments woven into the amulet had long been undone but it still served as a fond reminder of another friend lost and better times.

Aldanon skirted around the Imperial City despite his desire to see the statue of the Imperial Dragon in the Temple of the One and pay his respects to Martin. Even from across Lake Rumare he could see, and even hear, the reconstruction efforts underway and didn't feel like seeing the battle scarred remains of his old home just yet.

Not when he had more important things to do than scare up old ghosts.

He'd made another short stop in Bruma to kit himself out in clothing better suited to the cold weather of the northern lands. Though he could probably jump naked into a glacier and remain unaffected, being a Daedric Prince certainly had it's benefits, Aldanon found himself easily falling back into old habits. Chiefly the ones he'd picked up as a Murderer for the Dark Brotherhood where standing out was a sure way to alert the target.

So blending in was the name of the game and Aldanon spared no expense in the endeavor, his own considerable wealth still intact if a little out of date. Not that that really mattered he'd discovered in his past life after raiding ancient Ayleid ruins and walking out with perfectly usable gold that was sometimes hundreds, if not thousands, of years old if he'd have to guess.

There was little traffic to be found on the road north though it was obviously recently traveled, the ground trampled by many armored feet and with several large areas cleared for good-sized camps. Imperial Legion troops Aldanon guessed if the rumors of civil war in the north were true.

Aldanon heaved a heavy sigh. Sometimes he couldn't believe the stupidity of mortals, and he'd been one! The ripples of the last war hadn't even fully settled and they'd turned on each other over the outcome, with the enemy waiting like a wolf patiently stalking a wounded deer.

Somehow he just knew that he was going to get dragged into that mess eventually.

Still, "eyes on the prize" as his old friend Agronak would have said and right now Aldanon's 'prize' was just coming into sight around the bend.

Helgen was about what he expected from an Imperial outpost. High walls and massive gates designed to withstand sieges with a modest town and keep to house and supply the troops stationed there. What he wasn't expecting was for the place to be buzzing with activity, with men running along the walls shouting indistinctly to one another.

Had he just wandered into an impending battle zone? If so then Alduin had certainly chosen the right place and time to announce his return. What better way to say "I'm back!" than by slaughtering two opposing forces mid battle and laying waste to a town? It had a certain evil flair to it and Aldanon wasn't entirely sure he could do better himself.

Perhaps turning the walled outpost into a giant fondue to dip his enemies in?

"Focus, Aldanon," he murmured to himself. "Big dragon of doom now, delicious daydreams of mayhem later."

Odd thoughts aside, when he drew closer to the main gate Aldanon quickly realized that they weren't preparing for a battle. The shouting wasn't nearly desperate enough for it to be that and Aldanon was certain he heard the word "Victory!" several times and something about a General once or twice.

"Hold!" One of the gate guards commanded as Aldanon drew near. "State your name and purpose at Helgen!"

Aldanon held his hands up placatingly. "My name is Aldanon, a traveler recently out of Bruma. I'm making my way north to Winterhold to visit the College there and thought I'd stop here to learn the latest news on the war."

Aldanon was rather pleased with the story he'd concocted on the road here. The College of Winterhold was well known even in his day, if a bit remote, and was one of the places he'd sworn to visit if he ever found himself in Skyrim.

Though he probably hadn't needed to bother with a cover story at all if the dull, suspicious look he was getting from the other guard was any indication. The way he gripped his sword told Aldanon that he found someone traveling for the sake of knowledge to be highly suspect.

Obviously not the sharpest sword in the brigade but thankfully his partner seemed to be specifically chosen to keep him in check

"Well traveler, you're in luck!" The man proclaimed with a pleased grin and a warning glare, an odd combination to be sure, to his companion. "General Tullius just rode into Helgen with word that they'd captured Ulfric Stormcloak himself up at Darkwater Crossing a couple of days ago. Word is they're carting him and his men here to be shipped south for trial and execution in Cyrodiil."

_'Well that's unexpected,'_ Aldanon thought with a raised eyebrow.

"Truly?" Aldanon asked aloud. "The traitor himself? That's quite a relief."

Any 'relief' Aldanon may have shown was entirely fake however. General Tullius he knew was the overall commander of the Legion's forces here in Skyrim and Ulfric Stormcloak was his counterpart for the Stormcloak rebels and Aldanon's respect for Alduin rose a notch further.

By striking here today, Alduin would be able to effectively cripple the two primary obstacles, though they could hardly be called such, to his plans for Skyrim. By displaying his power here he would instill a sense of fear in the survivors and crush the confidence of the two faction leaders if not kill them outright. With their leaders dead or demoralized both the Legion and Stormcloaks wouldn't be able to mount even a passable defense as the dragons swept across Skyrim.

Aldanon could feel a wicked grin trying to form on his face as he wondered how best he could steal Alduin's thunder but he quashed the urge like a bug, settling for grinning on the inside since he didn't think the skittish Legion soldier with the dull look would take to kindly to that and likely attack him.

And then Aldanon would have to kill him. Probably the garrison too and anyone else silly enough to draw a weapon on him which, sadly, wouldn't leave much for Alduin whenever he got here.

With that in mind Aldanon mustered a much more pleasant smile, even if the thought behind it was anything but.

"Well if that's the case I think I'll stick around then, catch a glimpse of the big, bad traitor with my very own eyes," Aldanon said, still smiling.

"Alright then," the first guard replied genially. "You'll probably want to head to the Hollybush Inn then, it's the big building on your left at the edge of the main courtyard. Vilod's got a pretty good selection being this close to the border."

"Thank you kindly," Aldanon said with a nod.

He strode past the guard and his dim companion as Helgen's gates opened to admit him. Aldanon took stock of the area as he moved through it, committing it to memory for the inevitable confrontation. To his immediate right sat the keep itself, a squat stone structure consisting of a barracks and guard tower. On his left was a single story wooden house with a thatched roof, a death trap just waiting to be set on fire by a malicious god.

Not that he had the time.

The other set of gates guarding the road to the east were next, closed and guarded just like the other. There wasn't really anything else that stood out, a few more houses in the same style as the first and three more towers, one half collapsed and another looming above the rest.

The Hollybush lay in the shadow of the tallest tower and was rather busy, unsurprising really considering they believed the war was pretty much over. Aldanon could hear the loud toasts and even louder cheering before he'd even set foot on the porch and the noise crashed down upon him as soon as he opened the door to step inside.

The inside was packed and nearly every seat was filled by soldiers and the few civilians Helgen hosted. Aldanon wrinkled his nose briefly at the smell, apparently bathing wasn't high on these people's list of priorities, and wove his way through the crowd toward the innkeeper.

"What can I getcha?" The man, Vilod if Aldanon remembered rightly, asked as he settled up against the bar.

"Four ale. One for here, three for the road to Winterhold," Aldanon replied

"Aye, that'll be twelve septims," Vilod said, opening one bottle and sliding the rest over once Aldanon counted out the gold.

"Going to Winterhold you say?" Vilod asked as Aldanon stowed the extra away and took a swig. "That's deep in Stormcloak territory, friend. You're lucky though, with Ulfric captured and soon to be dealt with I doubt they'll hold together much longer."

"So it's true then?" Aldanon asked as he set his bottle down. "That they've captured Ulfric Stormcloak and are bringing him here?"

"Sure is," a soldier said as he stepped up next to Aldanon. "I was with one of the units that ambushed the bastard and his men up at the Crossing then rode on ahead with the General once he was secured."

"Kinda surprising that the General would leave Ulfric unattended like that even if you're bringing him through Imperial held territory," Aldanon said leadingly.

The talkative soldier took the bait almost eagerly. "Ulfric's well guarded, the General left the bulk of our force guarding him while he rode ahead with a token force. I doubt the Stormcloaks could mount a rescue so quickly even if they knew we had him."

It was almost laughably easy to keep the soldier, who Aldanon learned was named Markus, talking by plying him with Vilod's special brand of mead. It wasn't enough to get him drunk, which would have been suspicious with all the questions Aldanon was asking, but it and a friendly disposition were enough to keep the veteran soldier's tongue wagging revealing a couple interesting things.

Like the fact that the Thalmor's so called 'Ambassador' to Skyrim, a woman named Elenwen, had been waiting for the General when they arrived and the pair had been holed up in the keep since.

_'I'm going to have words with Akatosh at some point,'_ Aldanon thought as Markus began regaling him with the story of the ambush. _'This entire situation stinks of contrivance so badly I don't doubt Dagon can smell it in that brimstone filled pothole he calls home.'_

Still the company was okay, Markus being a fairly good story teller with some interesting tales to tell, and Vilod's special mead, seasoned with juniper berries of all things, was pleasant enough that before Aldanon had really noticed nearly an hour had passed. He was beginning to get a little antsy from the anticipation of his coming confrontation but it was easy enough to disguise thanks to the fervor around him.

He had to almost forcibly restrain himself from stretching out his divine senses to feel out Alduin, which would only alert the draconic demigod to Aldanon's presence here and ruin the surprise for all involved.

Thankfully his impatience, a flaw that not even godhood could cure him of, wasn't given the time to get the better of him as the front door flew open and a breathless soldier burst in with a shout of "They're here!"

What he said next though came as a surprise. "The General's called for the headsman!"

_'Something's definitely rotten in the walls of Helgen,'_ Aldanon thought as he absently swiped a couple of apples and followed all the other patrons outside.

The soldiers spread out to join their fellows scattered about the nearby courtyard and armed themselves, mostly with bows with arrows nocked but not drawn. A smaller cadre formed ranks around the executioner and priestess of Arkay that stood at the base of the shortest tower with swords and shields ready.

The sound of hooves clacking against the cobbled road and the creaking of wood heralded the appearance of three carts filled close to bursting with blue clad prisoners though the last held two dirty brown splotches amidst the blue that stuck out like sore thumbs.

As the non-soldier population of Helgen clustered on the inn's porch and at another house across the courtyard Aldanon settled for leaning casually against the tallest tower affording him an unobstructed view of most of Helgen, minus the gates, and bit into one of his apples as the carts came to a stop.

Not only was the view good but he was just close enough to hear the names of the prisoners as they stepped off their cart, chuckling quietly at the muttered "Damned Imperials and their lists," that managed to reach his ears.

For the most part he found them uninteresting and simple, if patriotic, soldiers obviously secure in their cause and unafraid to die. Zealots then, both the best and worst kind of soldier depending on which side of their blade you were on but considering their cause Aldanon couldn't fault them.

He may not get along with Talos who prized honor while Aldanon was a bit more _flexible_ in his morals but being an ascended mortal allowed Aldanon to understand him and his position amongst his fellows like no one else...and just how badly it hurt him to have his children, the very Empire that he founded, turn their backs on him.

The face and voice of Talos' greatest believers, Ulfric Stormcloak, was a rather impressive figure even bound and gagged as he was. Aldanon could feel the power the man wielded thrumming against his senses and when he focused he could almost make out words in a language he wasn't familiar with and yet felt that he should be.

That then would be the power of the 'Thu'um' that Mora spoke of. Aldanon had visited his fellow Prince in an effort to get at least some information since the Divines were being annoyingly tight lipped about the whole affair.

Sadly not even the Prince of Knowledge could tell him much, blaming possible interference from Akatosh himself to account for his lack of results, but what he did have hinted at greater powers than Aldanon had expected.

To think that mere _words_, regardless of the tongue, would have the power to heal, destroy and so much more!

There was a moment of comedy as one of the two ragged prisoners, a man called "Lokir of Rorikstead", made a spirited, if futile, attempt at escaping the chopping block. For a moment Aldanon entertained the idea of helping him but then shrugged unconcernedly as the man ran past only to be feathered by arrows. If he'd held onto whatever courage he might have had just a little longer then he'd likely have survived.

Or become a dragon snack. One of the two.

Aldanon did a double take when the last person, a young woman barely twenty years old, hopped of the cart and he couldn't help the honest surprise that overtook him as he examined her with both his eyes and other senses.

She was Blessed by a Divine, just as he was. By Dibella he guessed considering how stunning she looked even dressed in dirty rags, with more dirt smeared all over her face and in her fiery red hair and the fresh pink scar in the shape of a 'T' marring her cheek.

The Blessed were similar to the Champions that Daedric Princes chose to do their dirty work in the mortal plane, and as he could attest the two roles sometimes overlapped, except they carried their patron's blessing from birth and were "destined" to excel in some particular fashion or role.

Like saving the world for instance. Twice even.

Those Blessed by Dibella had strong, persuasive personalities and the good looks to back them up. Legends surrounding them claimed that they could quite literally talk the clothes right off someone's back and that it took a truly disfiguring injury to detract from the physical attraction they exerted on members of the opposite sex.

Her scar obviously wasn't disfiguring enough to judge from the rather stunned and blank way the man with "The List" asked for her name and Aldanon paused in mid bite to hear her answer.

"Risi Soul-Fang."

Sadly that magnetism was useless in the face of the man's Captain, a rather strident woman whose voice made Aldanon want to pry her tongue out with some rusty calipers, who brusquely ordered Risi to the block with the rest of them despite the protestations of her underling. Risi didn't say another word but the look she gave the Captain could have melted steel.

_'Don't worry, my dear Risi, she'll get her due,'_ Aldanon swore as he discarded his apple core with a frown.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," General Tullius began. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero-"

Aldanon tuned out the man's speech as he continued blathering on, the words lacking any kind of life or inspiration. The General's military accomplishments during the last war must have been exceptional for Aldanon doubted his star rose so high due to his rousing leadership abilities.

Something seemed off about his words though and this sudden decision to execute Ulfric here and now, without trial, was wrong no matter how you looked at it. Focusing in on the man, Aldanon could feel the discontent nearly rolling off the General in waves which brought another frown to his face. This situation grew more and more rotten by the moment.

He let his eye's wander away from the spectacle before him and found them settling upon the golden-skinned countenance of an Altmer woman astride a horse watching the proceedings from the shadow of the archway separating the courtyard from the keep. The moment Aldanon focused on her his senses were overwhelmed by an intense feeling of satisfaction.

_'Elenwen I presume?'_ Aldanon mused quietly. _'This is your doing then...but why? What do the Thalmor gain by forcing Ulfric's execution?'_

"-ut you down and restore the peace," General Tullius was saying as Aldanon shifted his attention back to the matter at hand.

Just in time it seemed as a loud roar echoed through the mountain air followed by a moment of absolute silence as the soldiers, villagers and prisoners looked around in confusion. Aldanon however smiled, though he hid it by taking a quick bite out of his second apple.

_'The guest of honor approaches,'_ Aldanon thought as one of the soldiers asked what that noise was.

"It's nothing," General Tullius responded in a clipped tone. "Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius," The Captain from earlier replied. "Give them their last rites."

The Priestess of Arkay complied, beginning the rites that any devout worshiper of the Divines knew by heart but Aldanon scoffed aloud when she proclaimed "-blessings of the Eight Divines-" and his disgust was obviously shared by the Stormcloaks as one moved forward without prompting.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" He snapped.

"As you wish," the Priestess replied testily.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning," he continued, provoking them even as he was forced down on the block.

"My ancestors are smiling on me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

_'No they can't,'_ Aldanon thought with disgust.

With a swish and a meaty thunk the executioner's ax did it's grisly work and the heckler died with a smirk on his face. The crowd made it's opinions known, shouting insults and propaganda worthy slogans back and forth until the Captain spoke up again.

"Next, the Nord in the rags!"

Aldanon's eyes narrowed dangerously at that as another roar echoed off the surrounding mountains, drawing everyone's attention again.

"There it is again," someone muttered. "Did you hear that?"

The Captain however was not to be deterred. "I _said_ next prisoner!"

Aldanon quickly scanned the sky and, seeing no sign of Alduin, discarded his half eaten apple and summoned up the magicka for a bolt of lightning as Risi stepped forward with her head held proudly. Aldanon held the spell back though, crackling quietly at his fingertips, determined to wait until the very last moment lest he give himself away.

As they forced her down to the block Aldanon stilled as the familiar cold, calculating calmness settled over him as he prepared himself for battle. He raised his hand, index finger glowing with power, and aimed directly between the executioners eyes as he raised his ax to swing.

It was then that Alduin finally appeared, wheeling around a cliff in the distance with another roar.

"What in Oblivion is that?" General Tullius shouted in alarm, bringing the proceedings to a halt.

Aldanon lowered his hand as the massive black-scaled dragon swooped down and perched on the tower above like a slice of midnight come to life, surveying them with angrily glowing red eyes and in turn every eye in Helgen was fixed on the great wyrm in shock and awe, frozen in place by the sheer malevolence of Alduin's presence.

They held that tableau for several moments before the calm was broken by Alduin as he unleashed a mighty roar. The sky darkened to an dull orange color that reminded Aldanon rather annoyingly of Dagon's realm and the clouds began swirling angrily. Seconds later massive flaming chunks of rock began raining down from the sky and Aldanon realized with a bit of shock just what he'd just witnessed.

That roar had been a Thu'um! Rather than words like Mora told him a Thu'um required though, Alduin had simply channeled all his rage and power into it's purest form of expression and unleashed it into _this_.

Aldanon dodged right as the tree across from him was struck, bursting into flame and collapsing directly towards him. He lost sight of Risi momentarily as he split his attention between the crumbling courtyard and Alduin but caught a glimpse of her seconds later following the last of the Stormcloak prisoners into the tallest tower.

_'Good, she'll be safe enough for now.' _Aldanon thought as he scanned the sky for his foe. _'Now where did Alduin get too?'_

The thud of something massive striking stone above and behind him brought Aldanon whirling around just in time to see Alduin, clutching at the side of the tower like a massive bat, headbutt a hole through the side of it.

"YOL-" He inhaled mightily. "TOOR SHUL!"

A blast of fire erupted from his mouth and filled the inside of the tower with burning fury. Aldanon could just barely hear an agonized scream over the roar of the flames and the continuous thudding of fiery boulders around him.

_'What's he doing? The only people in there are-'_ Aldanon broke off mid thought when he realized what Alduin was after. _'Risi!'_

It stood to reason that if Aldanon could sense Dibella's Blessing on her then Alduin, a minor god in his own right, could as well which painted a rather tempting target on her back. It probably didn't help that Ulfric was there as well, his use of the Thu'um probably greatly incensing the First-Born of Akatosh.

Aldanon raised both his hands, crackling with eldritch energy, and unleashed a powerful thunderbolt that crashed against Alduin's flank. While the attack itself did little damage, more like none, the force behind it was nearly enough to dislodge Alduin and with a roar he sprang away from the tower and skimmed the nearby cliff, crimson eyes searching for the one who dared attack him.

Aldanon however had cast an invisibility spell almost as soon as the lightning left his fingertips and hugged the wall of the smallest tower behind him. He certainly wasn't afraid of Alduin despite the drake's obvious power and current invulnerability, he really wasn't all that impressive compared to the likes of Mehrunes Dagon or Jyggalag, but he was more concerned right now with Risi's and Ulfric's, admittedly to a lesser extent, well-being.

So while Alduin gave up searching and swooped off in favor of easier targets Aldanon focused on the tower once again...and breathed a sigh of relief when a red headed figure leaped out of it and into remains of the Hollybush.

She wasn't safe yet however and wouldn't be safe until he could chase Alduin away so, with that thought in mind, he peeled away from the wall and hopped over the fallen tree and back into the courtyard.

Once there he spun once around on his heel, scanning the sky once again for Alduin. Aldanon spotted the great dragon just as he landed...on the road on the other side of the Oblivion damned wall.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

He flinched as the fires bathed the area but held his ground as Alduin took flight once again, twisting and turning masterfully through the air to avoid the arrows and fireballs of the Imperial troops on the ground. It was an impressive display, if unnecesarry considering they couldn't hurt him anyway, but it kept Aldanon from getting a good shot in.

_'Have to wait for him to land again,'_ Aldanon thought. _'Hopefully where I can hit him this time.'_

So he waited and watched as Alduin flew around wreaking havoc and destruction on the town and it's garrison. So focused on the dragon was he that Aldanon was caught completely off guard when someone grabbed him by the shoulder and forcibly turned him around.

"What in Oblivion are you-"

The speaker, a tall blond Nord clad in Stormcloak blue, stopped mid-sentence to stare cross-eyed at the finger pointed directly between them as it crackled ominously. Slowly Aldanon lowered his hand and the soldier relaxed enough to continue where he left off before he nearly got himself killed.

"What are you doing?" He said. "It's not safe to stand out here in the open like that!"

Aldanon scoffed as he turned back to his task, just in time to see Alduin take off yet again.

"I was trying to blast the damned dragon, you damn blasted idiot," he grumbled. "And you made me miss a perfect shot!"

Though Aldanon couldn't see it, seeing as he was ignoring the man, the soldier was giving him a confused and incredulous look but quickly shook it off in favor of surviving.

"I'm heading for the keep. it's the safest place with that...dragon flying around and if you're smart you'll go there too."

Aldanon blinked bemusedly as the soldier ran past him to the crumbled archway that once led to the keep and began clambering over the rubble

_'How...noble of him,'_ he thought, oddly touched that the man would take the time to worry about a complete stranger in this Oblivion spawned nightmare.

Still, the man did have a point. Everyone that wasn't actually fighting Alduin was likely making their way to the keep or fleeing into the surrounding wilderness via the gates...all three of which were on the opposite side of Helgen. Which also meant that Alduin was focusing his attention over there while Aldanon stood uselessly in the empty courtyard.

_'Why won't Alduin play with me?'_ Aldanon whined exasperatedly as he followed after the soldier who had just cleared the top of the rubble.

Dashing over to it Aldanon reached the top in two quick bounds though he nearly stumbled right over it and onto his face as Alduin swooped down in a rush of air just above to snatch away a screaming Legionnaire and drop him to his death.

As Aldanon regained his footing his gaze settled on a rather tense confrontation taking place below him between the Noble Stormcloak and the Legionnaire With The List from earlier with Risi standing off to the side with her hands still bound.

"Ralof you damned traitor! Out of my way!" The Legionnaire was shouting.

"We're escaping, Hadvar!" Ralof retorted. "You're not stopping us this time!"

"Fine!" Hadvar spat. "I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

"Come on, friend! Into the keep!" The Stormcloak shouted to Risi as he ran past her to the keep's lone watchtower.

"With me, prisoner! Let's go!" Hadvar shouted over his shoulder as he made his way to the barracks.

Risi looked back and forth between the two, obviously torn in her decision on who to go with. Personally Aldanon couldn't see why she was hesitating. While it was true that Hadvar had obviously stuck with her from sometime after she jumped into the Hollybush and now he hadn't taken a moment to cut her bindings with the perfectly sharp sword he carried and, worse yet in Aldanon's mind, he still referred to her as 'prisoner' despite knowing her name.

Ralof on the other hand, though also refusing to use Risi's name for some reason, was obviously an honorable sort as Aldanon could attest to and, better yet, seemed to think there was a bond between them as she almost went to her death alongside the Stormcloaks, likely for something that didn't warrant death. Assuming of course she'd done anything other than be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Her moment of indecision nearly cost her her life, for as she dawdled Alduin took that opportunity to crash heavily to the ground not more than twenty feet behind her, the tremors of his landing sending her stumbling to her knees.

"YOL-"

Aldanon leaped from the top of the rubble as Alduin spoke the first word that heralded his fiery breath attack, clearing more than half the distance between them in a single bound with a magical ward already half formed in one hand and lightning gathering in the other.

"TOR-"

To most people's perception Aldanon might have simply appeared in a blur of motion between Risi and Alduin, left hand outstretched to direct the glowing wall of protective energy between them and Alduin with the right held tight against his chest as it began to glow brightly from the amount of power Aldanon was pouring into the spell.

"SHUL!"

The flames lashed out at them, crossing the distance faster than most could blink, and crashed angrily against Aldanon's ward. A lesser ward would likely have broken under the strain and in fact most magic users probably wouldn't have the strength alone to produce a ward strong enough to hold back Alduin's fury. With the amount of power Aldanon was pumping into the spell however the flames were left to hiss, crackle and roar impotently a few feet away, doing little more than raising the temperature uncomfortably.

As the dragon fire continued to pour forth, Aldanon continued his own preparations for a counterattack. The lightning spell forming in his right hand was nearly blinding by now and nearly too strong for him to control properly with just one hand, arcs of energy occasionally escaping to score the ground around him and it took a considerable amount of concentration to keep them from lashing out at Risi.

All this effort to protect her would be somewhat pointless if he electrocuted her.

_'Come on!'_ Aldanon grumbled mentally. _'Don't you need to _breath_ or something?'_

Almost like a switch being thrown the flames cut off, leaving a massive swath of scorched earth between him and Alduin. It was hard to tell but Aldanon was certain Alduin's scaly face twisted into a look of utter shock at the sight of his prey standing unscathed and the bright light being aimed at him.

"Run!" Aldanon commanded Risi as he used both hands to stabilize the lightning and pour even more power into it.

Her shock at being alive and at the towering figure, to her at least, that had saved her thankfully wasn't enough to override her common sense. She clambered back to her feet and, without looking back, dashed towards the keep tower and Ralof who looked nearly as shocked as she did.

Satisfied that she was finally out of true harms way Aldanon focused entirely on Alduin. The dragon god still wasn't interested in playing with him however, flapping his great wings once and then twice to lift himself up and take to the air again. Aldanon couldn't help but think that he made a marvelous target though and, adjusting his aim slightly, unleashed the pent up magic attack.

Rather than a bolt of lightning, a beam of almost pure white light with arcs of energy surrounding it lashed out at Alduin striking him dead center in the chest. Aldanon was certain he'd put enough power into that spell to blast a hole clean through one side of the nearby keep and out the other but naturally it wasn't very effective against Alduin's protections.

While it didn't actually hurt him the sheer force of the attack flung the great dragon backwards through the air, smashing completely through the stone archway and crashing into the burning death trap house before finally coming to a stop against the wall on the other side.

Aldanon nodded in satisfaction as he admired his handiwork. He couldn't see how things could have gone any better really. Sure the presence of a Chosen of Dibella had kinda complicated things, it would have been rather poor form to let her just _die_ after all, but Aldanon found he rather liked complicated things.

Life would just be so _boring_ otherwise.

_'My work here is done.' _Aldanon thought smugly. _'Time to call it a day.'_

With a wink to Risi as she dragged Ralof through the door and a mocking wave to Alduin, who was finally pulling himself out of the ruin of a house he'd found himself in, Aldanon fed his magicka into the nearby flames and, with appropriately dramatic hand gestures, caused them to rise up and obscure him from view.

When the fire finally died away, Aldanon was long gone.

* * *

**A/N: Well...there ya go. Hope y'all enjoyed that. I tried to avoid following the opening too closely and I'll admit I'm a little disappointed that I ended up quoting large sections of it (doing that kind of thing makes me feel...lazy almost) near the end but when I decided to include Risi in the prisoner slot usually occupied by the hero I didn't really see any need to change the basic story structure that supports that role.**

**On that note, what do you think of Risi Soul-Fang? She's one of the characters I've created and played in Skyrim over the last year and I figured she could use some love (she was supposed to be my Dawnguard character but she's been languishing in High Hrothgar with the Graybeards until they stop screwing up the PS3 version and actually _release_ the damn expansion for that platform) since there are a couple of factions that are going to have to do without the Dovahkiin leading them to glory. She'll probably appear a couple more times in the next few chapters before Aldanon's story leaves her and her role behind.**

**There's a good chance a couple of my other characters might make cameo appearances at a later date. I tend to create some rather elaborate back stories for the characters I play and it'd be a shame to let them go to waste when I have such a useful outlet.**

**Changing the subject, how well am I writing Aldanon/Sheogorath? Is the humor good or at least decent? As I told one of my reviewers Aldanon has his own kind of crazy thanks to his past (rather than the eccentric "ha ha you're weird" kind of crazy he's the homicidal "ha ha you're on fire" kind of crazy) Does it show? Any suggestions?**

**A/N Mk. II: Just like the last chapter something slipped past me in the final draft. Aldanon's little bit about "delicious daydreams of mayhem" sounds much better than "daydreams delicious of mayhem" as it was before. Not sure HOW I could have missed that but it's right now. Far as I know that's the only real mistake that was left so I hope you enjoyed it, so let's move onto the next chapter! Onward!**


	3. Interlude: Aftermath

**The Edge of Madness**

**Interlude: Aftermath**

"Wh-what just happened?" Ralof gasped out. "Who _was _that?"

"I have no idea," Risi replied quietly as she stared at the door back to the courtyard still trying to wrap her mind around the whirlwind of events she'd found herself caught in, almost from the moment she'd crossed the border between Cyrodiil and Skyrim. "I've never seen him before in my life."

"Well he certainly seemed interested in you."

Risi turned to the Stormcloak soldier with a frown at that. "What do you mean?"

She tensed, though Ralof didn't seem to notice, and took a step back when she saw the dagger in his hand.

"C'mere and let's get those ropes off," he said, beckoning her closer. "They don't look very comfortable."

"Not in the least," Risi said with a small laugh as she stepped forward but didn't relax as he began hacking at her binds.

After a couple of moments she repeated her question. "So what did you mean he 'seemed interested' in me?"

"Hm? Oh well when I first saw him he was standing near the executioner's block looking for the dragon. Damn near blasted my head clean off my shoulders when I grabbed him and told him to run for it. Just scoffed at me and berated me for distracting him from trying to 'blast the damn dragon'."

"Stubborn things, did they make 'em to hold a giant?" Ralof growled irritably as the thick ropes refused to give way to his dagger. "Anyways I told him to get to safety but he seemed content to stand there and watch Helgen burn so I left him behind and yet, moments later, he's just suddenly _there_ to defend _you_ and taking down the bloody dragon with a damned grin on his face."

With a triumphant "Ha!" Ralof finally managed to saw through the ropes. "By Talos, I don't think I've ever seen that much power wielded in one place. Not even in all my years serving alongside the Jarl against the Forsworn's Hagravens or Legion battlemages. You _sure_ you don't know him?"

"Positive," Risi affirmed as she rubbed her aching wrists. "He seemed...very distinctive. I doubt I could forget meeting someone like that. I doubt I'd even be in Skyrim if I knew someone strong enough to kill a dragon..."

Risi's words faded away into an uneasy silence as she absently traced the scar on her cheek with a finger. Ralof frowned as the silence dragged on but just as he opened his mouth to ask her what she meant a truly earth-shattering roar shook the tower, the vibrations strong enough that pieces of masonry and a few largish stones actually fell from the ceiling forcing the two to dive to the side or be crushed.

"Shor's bones!" Ralof exclaimed. "That thing isn't dead? How could it shake an attack like that off?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Risi said as she climbed shakily back to her feet. "We need to get out of here before it brings the whole keep down around our ears."

Ralof nodded approvingly. "Right, survive first and worry about the dragon later though we'll have to get you some proper gear and soon. Do you know how to handle a weapon at all?"

"Fa-Father made sure I knew how to protect myself so I know how to handle anything with a blade and small enough to swing with one hand but I haven't had much practical experience until recently."

Thankfully, at least in Risi's mind, Ralof didn't seem to notice the slight catch in her voice and focused on what was important in the here and now. His eyes swept the room noting the two gates on either side, one a heavy wooden portcullis that had no obvious way of opening from their side and the other a common metal gate set into a series of bars, much like one would find in most prisons.

The metal gate was their best bet as long as it wasn't locked, especially since they'd made especially sure Risi didn't have any of her lockpicks on her, but before either could move towards it Ralof's eyes settled on a blue clad figure collapsed in a pool of blood near a table in the back of the room

"Gunjar!" Ralof cried, obviously recognizing the man.

Risi didn't follow him as he rushed over to the prone form of his comrade. Gunjar was already dead, nobody could lose that much blood and still be alive. As Ralof rolled him over to examine the body the cause of his death became clear, the broken off shaft of an arrow embedded in his thigh. A lucky shot that had pierced an artery just before he'd made it to safety, leaving him to bleed out.

Ralof sighed heavily. "We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother."

Another roar shook the tower, a grim reminder that they didn't have the time to properly mourn the fallen or they risked joining them.

"I think it's safe to say we're the only ones going to make it here now," Ralof said as he began stripping Gunjar of his gear. "Here I think you'll need this, I doubt Gunjar would mind."

"What are you doing?" Risi asked as she took the axe he offered her.

"Might be a little big on you but you need some proper armor instead of those rags if we run into any Imperials on our way out."

"And how exactly are we going to manage that?" Risi asked as she gave the axe a few experimental swings. "Get out that is. Aren't keeps supposed to be the last line of defense for outposts like this? I'd imagine there's only the two main entrances in and out."

"Normally you'd be right," Ralof agreed as he snapped off the rest of the arrow shaft in Gunjar's leg. "Bout a month ago though some scouts from a nearby camp found a cave system a ways to the north that the Legion connected to Helgen. Not sure why but it's our best bet for getting out of here in one piece and it's close to Riverwood too."

"Your hometown right?" Risi asked as he finally got the last of Gunjar's armor off and laid it out on the table.

" Yeah," he replied. "My sister still lives there, she and her husband Hod run the local mill. They'll take care of us."

"Assuming we can get to them."

"We'll make it, I promise you that," Ralof assured her. "Now put on that armor while I go see if the way is clear."

Risi gave him a small smirk as he hurriedly, while trying not to show it, turned his back and stalked over to the closed gate as she began stripping out of the filthy rags the Legionnaire's had left her in after capturing her.

_'How...noble,'_ she thought, unknowingly echoing Aldanon's own sentiments regarding the blond Stormcloak.

She didn't waste any time in pulling the blue cuirass over her head, it was still extremely cold even inside the keep and the quilted armor was still fairly warm, and though it was a little big on her a few adjustments to the belts and sash across it provided a more comfortable fit.

Across the room Ralof cursed as he tried the door before calling back to her. "It's locked but that's okay, I know I have a lockpick on me...somewhere."

Before Risi could open her mouth and offer to help, designing and picking locks having been something of a hobby of hers, Ralof had already found his hidden lockpick, inserted it into the lock and gave it an experimental turn. A small metallic snap reached her ears followed shortly by a much more vehement curse.

"Well so much for that," he grumbled as he threw the snapped pick to the floor.

Risi sighed and grimaced as she slipped on the bloodstained pants over the ragged pants she already wore as a measure to keep warm, and keep as much of the dead man's blood from her skin as she possibly could, before shoving her feet into the fur boots and adjusting them similarly.

As she did that Ralof crossed the room to the other doorway but, as Risi had suspected, there was no way to lower the portcullis from their side.

A fact that Ralof punctuated with yet another curse. "Well we aren't going _that_ way," he groused as he looked around the room in vain for some other option.

"Well we can't go back outside," a roar just outside the tower accentuated Risi's point. "Do you have another lockpick stashed somewhere? I happen to be pretty handy when it comes to locks."

Ralof grimaced. "No, they managed to find the others when they searched us. Wish I'd have asked you earlier, I just don't have the touch for...light work like that."

The sound of a gate lowering echoing down the hallway caught their attention before they could come up with another plan of action. Quickly the two stepped away from the doorway, taking up positions on either side of it with their axes drawn.

"Move it men!" A familiar voice shouted. "We must secure the keep and make for the escape tunnels."

"Yes, Captain!" A pair of voices replied.

Risi's lip curled in disgust and she quickly shooed Ralof back a bit as she stepped out into the open. He opened his mouth to protest but closed it quickly when he realized exactly what she had planned and stepped back a couple of steps to give himself more room and drew his second axe.

Sure enough when Risi stepped out her eyes met those of the damned Imperial Captain that had been responsible for her capture near Riften and subsequent shipment to Helgen with the Stormcloaks. Both sets narrowed hatefully at the sight of the other and the Captain was quick to draw her weapon.

"It's one of the escaped prisoners!" She cried. "Hurry up and open this gate, we have to apprehend her immediately!"

Risi backed up towards the center of the room as the gate began to slowly lower with her axe held ready, exactly as her father had shown her not all that long ago. The Captain once again showed her seemingly single-minded fixation on Risi as she leaped over the gate before it was even fully down and charged the young Nord without even pausing to take stock of the room.

It cost the first man to follow her through the doorway dearly as Ralof sprang forward and buried one axe in the man's neck. Ralof left it there as the man toppled like a felled tree and took a step back to avoid the blade of his compatriot as he stepped through the doorway and over the bloodied corpse. The second Legionnaire was no novice though and quickly pressed Ralof as he shifted his remaining axe from his left hand to his right, putting him on the defensive and forcing him further away from the fight between Risi and the Captain.

Despite the relative gulf in combat experience between the two women, the Captain having been involved in the war with the Stormcloaks even before General Tullius took command of Legion forces in the region while Risi had only recently been forced to put her skills to use in actual battle, Risi found that she was holding her own against the older woman.

Her father had been nearly a master with a blade and had done his best to pass those skills onto his only child. An endeavor that, Risi was proud to say, he'd done an exceptional job at . She was ready for the Captain's first thrust and parried it easily but she wasn't quick enough to capitalize on the opening, being unused to wielding an axe, and was forced to settle into a defensive stance as her opponent recovered and went on the offensive.

A flurry of blows rang against Risi's guard as she managed to parry the quick, powerful blows, all of which were aimed to kill rather than incapacitate.

_'So much for _apprehending_ me.'_ Risi thought sourly as her arms protested the punishment being dealt out.

She held firm though, waiting patiently for her chance to strike back which came much sooner than she had hoped as the Captain, frustrated that this slip of a girl wasn't dead yet, drew her sword back for a single powerful strike.

Risi exploded into action bashing the Captain in the face with the haft of her axe, staggering the taller woman and interrupting her attack. She followed up with a vicious slash to the woman's sword arm that opened up a sizable gash in the Captain's unarmored bicep. Somehow the stubborn woman managed to keep her hold on her sword and even force Risi back with several wild swings that the Nord nimbly dodged away from.

The Captain switched her sword to her offhand and glared at Risi as she held her injured arm close to her side. Risi met the glare with an even stare of her own and began circling her opponent, grunts and the clang of metal on metal echoing in the small space as Ralof dueled furiously with his own opponent, both of whom sported several small wounds.

"I underestimated you, girl," the Imperial snarled. "I probably shouldn't considering how far you've come with such a price on your head."

Risi's breath caught in her throat and she couldn't hide the ripple of shock that traveled through her, which garnered a nasty smirk from the other woman.

"Did you really think you could get away so easily?" She asked mockingly. "Majra-Dar's reach extends far beyond Cyrodiil, little girl."

"You work...for _him_?"

The sheer amount of venom in the last word caused the Captain's smirk to twist into something dangerous but Risi was in no frame of mind for it to properly register. With an almost feral snarl she launched herself at the other woman swinging her axe with all the strength she could muster.

Unfortunately, and precisely as the Imperial had hoped, Risi's attacks lacked much of the form and style that had allowed her to stand up to the battle hardened Legionnaire. Even handicapped by a wounded arm and forced to fight with her offhand said Captain rather easily deflected the powerful but unfocused strikes, managing to get a few minor hits in of her own though the wounds weren't deep, little more than scratches.

The irritating wounds only seemed to infuriate the young Nord further which only inspired the Captain to push her even farther.

"I couldn't believe my luck," she said as she brought the pommel of her sword down on Risi's shoulder after a particularly wild lunge. "It had only been a day since the courier delivered the bounty notice to my camp when, lo and behold, you come trotting up the road as brazen as you please and walk right into my patrol."

A snort of amusement preceded a heavy kick to Risi's midsection that sent the younger woman tumbling and gave the Captain time to catch her breath and continue her diatribe.

"You weren't even _trying_ to hide yourself you stupid little child," she continued scornfully. "Like you expected Majra-Dar to just let you go the moment you crossed the border. You sorely underestimated him, just like-"

"Shut up!" Risi snarled as she shakily rose to her feet.

The cruel smile never once left the Captain's face, even as she chanced taking her eyes off her opponent to check on her subordinate. The man was still battling the Stormcloak traitor Ralof, keeping the dangerous rebel occupied and out of her hair but he was slowly losing ground against the blond Nord, which wasn't really that surprising.

Although Ralof didn't hold a very high rank in the Stormcloak forces he was generally considered one of Ulfric's most dangerous warriors and was single-handedly responsible for some of the Stormcloaks more unbelievable victories to date. The Captain would have to wrap this up soon and come to her fellow's aid or risk not living long enough to enjoy her bounty.

_'Just another good push,'_ she thought as she opened her mouth. "My only regret is that I won't be able to bring you back to Majra-Dar alive. Between the money from your capture and the end of the Stormcloaks with Ulfric dead I could have retired my commission honorably and lived like a queen for the rest of my life. Thanks to General Tullius and that damned dragon though I'll just have to settle for bringing him your head and retiring to a remote corner of the Empire to enjoy the rest of my days."

Rather than make Risi angrier mentioning the dragon doused her rage like a bucket of cold water being dumped over a roaring flame, bringing her back to her senses just before she lunged blindly at her enemy a second time.

_'I can't lose my focus like that,'_ she berated herself. _'I've got to finish this and escape.'_

She drew her weapon back as though to bring it crashing down on her Imperial opponent's guard but took a quick leap backwards instead and threw the axe with all the strength she could muster at the surprised Captain, who was far to slow in bringing her sword up to deflect the unorthodox attack. It collided solidly with her helmeted head, opening a wicked gash across her forehead and knocking her helmet clean off.

Risi snatched up the fallen Legionnaire's sword, which felt far more natural in her hand, and executed an all or nothing diving lunge that carried her across the room towards her foe. Half blinded by the blood pouring down her face the Imperial was not at all prepared for such a bold move and her wild swing was far too low to hit Risi, whose sword pierced straight through the heavy armor. The momentum sent the two crashing to the ground in a heap.

"Looks like your cushy little retirement plan's nothing more than a pipe dream," Risi hissed down at the Captain.

As the other woman coughed wetly, bloody flecks of saliva staining her lips, a cry of pain sounded behind them and was quickly silenced with the thunk of an axe being buried in flesh. Ralof's opponent had lost his focus for a moment with his superiors defeat and the Stormcloak veteran hadn't wasted the opening presented to him.

"Doesn't...matter," the Imperial managed to wheeze out. "I'm not...the only one...who'll be looking for you. You have..._no one_...to trust...to turn to...in Skyrim. He'll...find you...and...and..."

The woman's hate filled words finally trailed of with a weak gasp as she finally breathed her last. Risi pushed herself to her feet taking the Captain's sword, which was of slightly better quality, and leaving the other imbedded in her foes chest.

"Are you alright?" Ralof asked as he retrieved his other axe.

"Yeah...yeah I'm fine," Risi murmured.

She was anything but fine though. The physical wounds were inconsequential and easily treated but the Captain's parting words, and those during their fight, shook Risi almost more than she was willing to admit.

She most certainly had _not _been expecting anyone to be looking for her in Skyrim, at least not beyond the ones already following her, and for some no name officer in the Imperial Legion to be looking for her so soon...it was with no small amount of fear that Risi wondered just who else was in the Khajiit's pocket.

"Ah-ha!" Ralof exclaimed as he searched the Captain's body, snatching up a key from her belt. "Here's our ticket out of here. Come on, freedom awaits."

Risi followed her Stormcloak companion closely but in the back of her mind she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever really be free.

* * *

"What are you waiting for, General? Kill him!" Elenwen hissed, her normally immaculate looks considerably diminished by dirt and ash and her robes burned in several places.

For his part General Tullius didn't bother even looking at the Altmer that tended to cling to him like an annoyingly talkative and demanding burr, preferring to keep his attention focused on more important matters.

Like Ulfric Stormcloak and the three score rebels arrayed on the rocks and hill above he and his men.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Madame Ambassador, we're slightly outnumbered," he responded in a clipped tone.

Ulfric lifted one eyebrow mockingly. "What's this? Your elven masters say 'jump' and you don't automatically ask 'how high?' Progress, General."

Many of the Stormcloaks chuckled at their leader's barb and Tullius held up a hand commandingly to keep his men, who barely numbered twenty not counting the Ambassador and her two escorts, from moving to attack but held his tongue rather than be baited.

"An...unfortunate turn of circumstances is it not, General Tullius?" Ulfric continued. "I can only imagine how you must feel with 'the shoe being on the other foot' as they say. I must admit it's a rather heady feeling having you here at my mercy for the first time in the few months you've been in my homeland."

Tullius grimaced before schooling his features into the stern mask he usually wore in tight situations such as these. "So what now, Ulfric? I won't lie, you've got us between a rock and a hard place. The next move is entirely up to you."

Both sides tensed in preparation of Ulfric's next words as the two leaders stared each other down, though Ulfric's eye's flicked over towards Elenwen and her whispering escorts once before settling back on his primary focus.

"You have no idea how much I want to simply crush you, and the bitch standing beside you, under my boot heel, General," Ulfric said slowly. "But I'm no fool."

That garnered many confused looks from both sides. Tullius had pretty much single-handedly turned the war in the favor of the Empire in the four months since he'd taken command and killing the Thalmor's primary voice here in Skyrim would simply be icing on the cake as it were. Ulfric let them puzzle over his words for a few moments before continuing.

"The appearance of that dragon changes many things, General," he said gravely. "They're meant to be harbingers of the End Times in the old Nord ways and I can't help but wonder at it's timing here today."

"It's nothing more than a wild beast!" Elenwen snarled. "Feral and viciously attacking anything it pleases, just like everything else in this detestable land."

"You would do well to keep your tongue locked behind your teeth, _elf_," Ulfric spat. "Especially on matters you know nothing about."

Elenwen looked like she'd like nothing more than to lash out at the imposing Nord before her but self preservation, and the quiet pleading of her escorts, won out over pride in this instance and she settled for glaring poisonously but ineffectually at Ulfric.

"Regardless a battle here, with the dragon still so close, would do little more than draw it's gaze away from whatever struck it down before and I, for one, would prefer to avoid risking it's ire a second time."

Tullius grimaced at the truth of his words. He didn't need to look back to know that the dragon was still devastating the burning remains of Helgen, determined it seemed to reduce the place down to the very bedrock.

"On that, at least, we can agree upon," Tullius aid grudgingly. "So what do you propose?"

"My men and I will turn around and follow the main road through the pass to Riften, you and yours can cut across the wilderness here until you reach a place called Grey Water Grotto," Ulfric informed him. "You should be able to head west from there, following some animal trails and a small river, and finally reach the road to Falkreath."

Tullius remained stoic as he considered whether or not it Ulfric was simply leading him on, being unfamiliar with many of the more minor landmarks of Skyrim still, until one of his men spoke up.

"I know the place he's talking about sir, I have family living nearby there actually," the man said. "It's only about an hours walk to the road and maybe another two to Falkreath at a steady pace."

Ignoring the blazing look Elenwen was shooting him finally nodded. "Very well then, we have an accord."

Ulfric nodded in return and with a sharp gesture he and his men slowly disappeared into the wilderness. Tullius waited for a few moments to ensure he wouldn't be catching an arrow before turning to address the man who had confirmed Ulfric's directions.

"Well lead on, soldier," he ordered. "I want to get to Falkreath before the sun goes down and get word out to Castle Dour. The rest of the region needs to be warned about this...dragon."

"Yes, General Tullius!"

* * *

It was only a short time later that Alduin finally grew tired of torching the already burnt out ruins of Helgen but his rage was far from sated.

If anything he was angrier than he could ever remember being. Even when those foolish 'Tongues', trained by his traitorous so-called _brother_, had the temerity to challenge him all those years ago and cast him down like he was nothing.

Like he was trash!

He'd spent so long trapped outside the flow of time, forced to watch the world continue on beyond it's appointed time while he could do nothing. Forced to watch as his kin and kind were hunted by the arrogant mortals and slain over the course of centuries until only a handful remained in Tamriel, resorting to hiding in places no sane creature would, or even could, survive.

The only thing that kept him from going mad was the knowledge that many of his most loyal had left rather then sully themselves _coexisting_ with the mortals, as the fool Paarthurnax preached and practiced from his seat at the Throat of the World with his mortal pets, settling in the frozen wastes of Atmora where mortals no longer tread.

They knew, just as he did, that he would return one day. Mortals could not slay a god no matter their pitiful resolve or what tools they might possess.

Thus, Alduin bided his time. Watching the abominations build civilizations and then destroy them in equal measure was both infuriating and satisfying at the same time. This was the reason for his creation! This endless cycle of decay should not exist in his Father's creation. Only the Dov were worthy of it! They were Akatosh's perfect children, molded in his image, and they were timeless!

After an interminable amount of time Alduin finally felt it. The time of his return was growing nearer as the foul Daedra Mehrunes Dagon assaulted the very fabric of Nirn to try and claim it as his own, a feat of arrogance that nearly succeeded due to the weakness of his Father's mortal 'champions,' and weakened the prison that kept him from his appointed duty.

Two more centuries passed Alduin by in his prison of nothingness but he was nothing if not patient, watching as it slowly unraveled around him. Allowing him to do more than just catch glimpses of events as they happened or had happened until, at last, he was finally free.

Unbound at last!

The coward Paarthurnax was of course absent from his lofty perch but, though he so wanted to sink his teeth into the traitor's neck and rend his flesh from his bones, Alduin refrained from hunting his brother down to fulfill that desire. It would doubtlessly pain Paarthurnax far more to watch as Alduin wiped his favorite pets from the face of Nirn and be unable to save them.

And when he turned his attention to the land around him, Alduin was disgusted. Yet again the mortals waged war on one another, slaughtering one another over the mortal-turned-god Talos. As if the arrogant creatures had any right to question the actions of Akatosh himself!

Still, it presented the perfect opportunity for Alduin. Casting his Sight forwards he caught a glimpse of a pivotal shatter point in the timeline, a point where the greatest mortals in the land, such as they were, would gather in a single place.

That place was Helgen.

It was almost sad in a way. All it would take was one single strike and Alduin would be able to break the metaphorical back of what could laughably be called his opposition in the region, bring the fear of the Dov back into the hearts of mortals once again and sow chaos across Skyrim.

Things had gone as he'd Seen at first, with the mortal Tongue pretender being captured and carted south by his enemies to be put to death for his beliefs. The Blessed mortal was something of an unexpected, but not unwelcome, addition to events. That really should have been his first warning but at the time all he could focus on was how _right_ everything seemed.

The feeling of superiority was a heady thing, and something that had been sorely lacking during his imprisonment, with his power thrumming through his bones and the ineffectual attempts of the mortals at harming him only serving to push him higher.

And then it had all come crashing down.

The Pretender had already fled into the wilderness beyond Helgen in a futile attempt to escape Alduin's wrath but the Blessed, a young mortal female, was still within Helgen's walls and helpless before him. He'd circled the outpost a few times to savor the fear and terror he inspired, even landing almost teasingly close to the Blessed to give her a first hand view of the devastation he could wreak upon her if he so desired, until finally he could afford to delay no longer.

As she neared the relative safety of Helgen's keep he struck. Alduin's landing sent the mortal spawling to the ground, helpless before him, and he wasted no time in unleashing his Thu'um to burn her to ash. Alduin had that image so fixated in his mind's eye that he only barely noticed that something seemed...off. The mortal was still alive somehow, the power of her Blessing still shining brightly to his Sight. Something was holding back the might of his Thu'um!

He ended the onslaught to see what would dare challenge him to find...nothing, at least nothing that his Sight could perceive. There was definitely _something_ there if the sheer amount of magicka being molded was any indication but the most he could actually See was a vague blur between him and the Blessed.

Allowing his Sight to fade into a more mundane spectrum Alduin could not disguise the sheer shock that flowed through him as a tall mortal appeared, a Breton if Alduin remembered rightly, with a glowing ball of magicka grasped in one hand and a powerful shield emanating from the other.

As the mortal turned to shout something at the Blessed Alduin took the opportunity to take to the air once again. He might not fear mortals but his final battle with the Tongues had taught him to not underestimate them either, and the power this one wielded was enough to warrant caution.

Unfortunately he wasn't fast enough and the mortal turned his attention back to Alduin with a grin on his face. Shockingly the already powerful spell doubled in strength in the moments before it was unleashed, crossing the distance in the blink of an eye and striking him right in the chest.

Even more shocking was the fact that he could _feel _it. The spell didn't hurt by any means but Alduin could feel his protections actually _strain _ under the force behind it. It pushed him back, sending him flying through the air to crash through a stone arch to land in the burning remains of a house.

By the time he'd finally clawed his way out of the wreckage and took to the air the mortal had disappeared as suddenly as he'd appeared. He even had the sheer audacity to _mock_ him!

Thus his overwhelming rage. Not only had the powerful mortal slipped his grasp, so had the Blessed and Pretender! He couldn't even focus properly through his rage to activate his Sight and find them. In the end he settled for turning Helgen into nothing more than a pile of ash and molten rock but it wasn't enough. Destroying a construct of wood and stone would not drive the image of the confident smile or mocking gesture of that arrogant mortal from his mind.

Alduin turned and winged his way north, towards more heavily populated areas. It would take many more souls to slake his desire for revenge.

* * *

**A/N: Well there you are. Sorry it took me a month to get this out but for about two weeks I wrestled with what was undoubtedly the second worst cold I can ever remember having, complete with nasty fever, sore throat and almost debilitating migraines. Also, as you all may have noticed this isn't the real "Chapter 3" as it were. I was actually in the process of writing it when the cold struck and I spent those two weeks sitting wrapped up in front of my computer listening to music and planning out plot points when the idea for "Interlude" chapters came to me. The vast majority of the story is going to be told almost entirely from over Aldanon's shoulder and there is going to be a bit more than that going on that deserves attention so as soon as I could focus again I shelved Chapter 3 and started writing this.**

**For the most part it is character building, plot laying and more experimenting with characterization. Risi get's a little more of the spotlight and I've revealed a little more of her history and unveiled yet another of my created characters, if only by name: Majra'Dra, the Hunter of the North. At least that's what he would have been as the Dovahkiin but he's no less dangerous now as he was then. Interesting fact: perhaps some of you might think that name looks somewhat familiar. I know I did when I came up with it all those months ago and it bothered me for a few weeks until I finally broke down and looked up and discovered why. It just a slight rearrangement of M'raaj-Dar, that unfriendly Khajiit assassin in Oblivion's Dark Brotherhood that learns just a little too late that friendship is another form of magic.**

**Oh god I can't believe I just wrote that. Excuse me while I go purge myself with bleach.**

**So what do you all think of this? Again, I worry about how I portray the characters. I have this incessant need to change all sorts of things usually to suit my vision of "how things need to be" but for once I don't want to totally and completely butcher them beyond all recognition. Alduin was actually kinda fun to write as I did, viewing himself as the injured party as it were and being unable to "do his job"...nevermind the fact that he wasn't really doing it all that well in the first place. It was also kinda amusing at first to imagine him as a supporter of Talos (Vote Talos! Or Alduin will burn your village to the ground and devour your soul in the afterlife!) though after a while I decided to roll with it, with the explanation that it was Big Daddy Akatosh's decision to allow Tiber Septim a place in the pantheon to justify it. Meh, it won't pop up more than a couple of times at most and won't likely be a big deal.**

**Also revealed is a hint of one of Alduin's divine powers, the power of Sight in this case, the ability to See and predict future events and identify those with special traits, like the Blessed or practitioners of the Thu'um among other things. Though it isn't restricted to him, if Paarthurnax's words are interpreted that way about the future being unreadable even to him (can't remember the context right now but it sounds like he could at least see small things), his would be far more potent than any other dragon's ability. Sadly he has one massive blind spot, quite literally as shown above, in the form of Aldanon being as this would be the first time he's ever encountered another god. He might eventually, key word being might, be able to See Aldanon as they clash more often but it's undecided for now.**

**Oh right! Before I ramble further and forget, the issue of pairings. I wasn't actually expecting it to come up so soon but thanks to an Anonymous 'guest' I suppose I'll address it now. If you happen to be reading this 'guest' I'm afraid I'm going to have to say "No" to your suggestion, but not without reason. In Through the Portal,** FirenIce15 **specifically set up their story to support the pairing between Lerna and Talos, with the two having several prior meetings and sharing the same kind of background, both being former mortals turned gods and thus able to relate to one another. Aldanon on the other hand has never really associated with the Divines despite holding them in high regard, being a devout believer before his time in the Dark Brotherhood. Thus trying to set him up with Dibella while not impossible, this being fanfiction after all, is rather improbable in my mind. Before anyone else can think of it, trying to pair him with any of the Daedric Princes that pass themselves off as females most of the time is also unlikely. We know, thanks to Shivering Isles, that Jyggalag was overpowered and cursed by an unknown and unnamed number of his fellows who feared his power and are ultimately the ones responsible for the chain of events that resulted in Aldanon being stuck with being Sheogorath which, despite appearances, isn't a barrel of laughs. I've spent a little time and created a list of likely suspects for this story and no, you don't get to know who they are...yet. Suffice it to say the only ones he truly gets along and interacts with frequently are Jyggalag, Hermaeus Mora, Nocturnal (who let him keep his Skeleton Key) and of course, Sanguine. After all who wouldn't get along with the Prince of Debauchery, assuming they aren't his victims?**

**Anyways back on the topic of pairings, I'm actually kinda stumped to be honest. The vast majority of possible interests in Skyrim never actually interested me. My own created characters are off limits, they have their own stories and interests that including Aldanon in too frequently (cause if he was paired with Risi you'd damn well better know he isn't going to suffer ANYONE messing with her) would overshadow their personal struggles. My first thought would be an elf if only because they are so long lived, living 500+ years at least (Queen Barenziah from Morrowind actually knew Tiber Septim before he ascended and she lived well into the Third Era, being 430-something when Morrowind takes place, and possibly beyond though I can't be sure) whereas the human races are rather too short lived unless I pull the whole "granting immortality" bit. **

**What would you all like to see? Being as I'm so undecided on the matter I'm totally and completely open to suggestions though I do ask that you give a reason for them to be with Aldanon. He isn't going to keep the fact that he is Sheogorath completely secret (though he will come up with a plausible story to explain his knowledge and power to those he doesn't want to know the truth) and that's not exactly something most people would be comfortable with.**

**And one last point on the pairing issue...what the hell is up with calling for a harem? What do you think this is, Naruto? Harry Potter? Gah!  
**

**Fair warning for the future. I've been playing Guild Wars 2 off and on since it's pre-release, largely thanks to my best friend who actually dropped the money to buy me a copy so that we could play together, despite my inability to pay him back. It's a great game and really grabs my attention at times. I actually took a four day break from it to get this done while my friend was on a business trip which he returned from about two hours ago so as soon as this is posted I'll probably be playing it again. Have no fear though, I have written a good 1000+ words for Chapter 3 so barring any catastrophic writer's block or debilitating injury it shouldn't take me another month to get the next one too you all. So what are you all waiting for? Review please! I'd love to hear from you and please, if you spot any mistakes that I missed, let me know.**


	4. Taking Stock

**The Edge of Madness**

**Chapter 3: Taking Stock**

Skyrim wasn't really anything like Aldanon had imagined it would be during his mortal days, back when he'd dreamed of traveling beyond Cyrodiil's borders and visiting the provinces. All the research he'd done, though admittedly mostly surrounding the College and it's host of Winterhold, had painted a picture of a Bruma-like environ: mountainous, snowy and cold and many of the Nords he'd met hadn't done much to disabuse him of the notion.

After his withdrawal from Helgen, Aldanon refused to call it an "escape" as that implied he'd been losing, he'd found himself in a heavily forested area that reminded him more of the Colovian Highlands, albeit slightly chillier, than the southern portion of the Jerall Mountains around Bruma.

Still the tall tree he'd managed to teleport himself into, an unfortunate byproduct of teleporting without having some sort of magical anchor, afforded him a distant but clear view of Alduin as the scaly bugger tucked tail and flew north away from Helgen, towards more populated areas. Possibly a gambit to make up for his rather dismal showing at Helgen, a thought that brought a satisfied smirk to Aldanon's face.

A quick gander at his map and the breath-taking view Aldanon had thanks to his perch let him pinpoint his position, near the south western edge of Lake Ilinalta, a few miles north of the city of Falkreath and several more away from the burning remains of Helgen to the east. All in all a rather successful attempt for his first blind teleportation outside of his own realm.

_'As soon as I get myself settled here, I'm placing Markers anywhere that stands out,'_ Aldanon swore. _'Knowing my luck I'd probably end up in Hammerfell next time.'_

It had taken him years of toiling during his time at the Mages Guild to refine his unique teleportation spell being as it was an amalgam of several different things. Telvanni crafted Mark and Recall spells, designed to work around the wild magic surrounding the Red Mountain of Vvardenfell combined with Mages Guild ingenuity and rune work to allow multiple Marks to be placed as he saw fit. Unfortunately his original Markers had long since dissipated, either due to time or the interference of others but he would remedy that in due time.

_'Perhaps I can convince some poor sod to do it for Sheogorath's favor,'_ he mused as he stretched out his senses.

Far to the north Aldanon could feel Alduin's burning rage and a considerable amount of fear, it would have to be if he could pick it up at this distance without really trying, that helped confirm his earlier suspicion. The rage increased exponentially the moment Alduin sensed his probe and lashed out at him but it was clumsy and unfocused, much like a child's temper tantrum. Despite the power behind the attack it was easily parried thanks to Jyggalag's tutoring.

The dragon god struck out a second time and this time Aldanon returned the favor, delivering the mental equivalent of a hammer blow to the nose as a warning. A warning that was apparently heeded as the attack ceased and Alduin wheeled about to head south...no southeast towards a place that positively sung with a familiar sort of power, something similar to Dagon's Great Gates and his own in Niben Bay.

Alduin and the unknown gate weren't the only things that pinged Aldanon's senses however. There were several other sources of power, divine power at that which shouldn't be possible, scattered all across the region numbering maybe eleven in total though one spot was inordinately more powerful than the others. There was one rather close by actually, situated somewhere in Lake Ilinalta, and the more powerful signature was almost directly east of that. His curiosity sufficiently peaked, Aldanon decided he just _had _to investigate.

"Onward, to great adventure!"

It would have taken him some time to try and climb down from the tree like a normal person and many of the branches didn't even look like they'd hold his weight like the one he was on, so he forwent that route in favor of simply walking along the branch and stepping off the end. Aldanon fell a good fifty or sixty feet before he finally hit the ground only to find himself hip deep in a pack of scrawny, half-starved wolves that wasted no time in trying to make a meal out of him.

_'At least some things never change,'_ Aldanon thought with a sigh as his signature lightning lashed out to fry the furry pests. _'Everything that breathes, and quite a bit that probably doesn't, wants me dead.'_

They were barely even worth noticing, the kind of thing his old sword instructor would have sent him out to hunt when he was just a novice handling his blades. If it weren't for the fact that he lacked any proper armor to keep six sets of teeth from sinking into his flesh and ripping his clothes to shreds probably would have simply ignored them. Aldanon could still feel pain he'd found, a little experimentation once he'd stepped out of the gate had proven that, and while it was only mildly irritating and quickly healed he preferred to avoid it.

It wouldn't do much for his "Blending In" plan either if he made it a habit of simply shrugging off debilitating wounds like they were mosquito bites.

Leaving the smoking corpses where they lay, any useable bits ruined by the amount of power he'd poured into them, Aldanon crossed the short distance from the forest to the edge of the lake and peered out over it's glimmering expanse in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the mysterious beacon of power and found himself distracted by the picturesque view presented before him.

His home province of Cyrodiil was a nice place to be sure but it was mostly rolling hills covered in massive forests, and dotted with Ayleid ruins and old forts, except to the north near Bruma and the almost bitterly cold Jerall Mountains or to the south in the marshlands around Leyawin with little variation to be found between the three disparate climes.

Here though the lake shimmered in the sunlight calm, clear and undisturbed, reflecting the forest of pine that grew along it's southern edge and the mighty mountain ridge overshadowing the area to the north. And to think, this was just one small area of a much larger province. He could only give voice of one word to describe it.

"Beautiful."

And there in the distance, just barely in sight, was a small rocky island that the mysterious source of power was radiating from. Mentally shaking himself free of his musings, Aldanon cast a water walking spell and strode confidently out onto the calm surface of the lake.

Why get wet or risk the needle teeth of Slaughterfish, since the little bastards seemed to thrive everywhere, when magic could let you thumb your nose at the laws of nature?

It took only minutes to cross the distance at a sedate pace and when Aldanon arrived at his destination he found something familiar and yet, wholly different. It was an arrangement of standing stones ritualistically placed around a central stone, one with a hole large enough to hold his entire head and rimmed with ebony metal with two bands above and below and a cap at the very top made of the same dark metal.

And just below that was a wonderfully carved image of The Lady, Aldanon's own birthsign, complete with the appropriate marks to denote her constellation form.

It looked remarkably similar to the ancient Doomstones Aldanon had found scattered all across Cyrodiil over the course of his mortal life. Most of them had been created to mimic or augment the effects or powers of the various birthsigns one could be born under, though a few were created by cults and the like to honor their gods or idols.

As he reached out to touch it he knew that it was something far greater than the creator's of the Doomstones could ever hope to accomplish. His senses hadn't deceived him, which had been a small concern at first. This stone, and the others like it did indeed have divine energy flowing through them which, to the best of his knowledge, shouldn't be possible. The only lasting creation the gods were responsible for was Nirn itself and that was back before they'd poured all their power into it to give it life.

The only thing gods could safely infuse their power into anymore were artifacts or people. Both of which were things without true permanence even if many of those artifacts and people could, and indeed would, last for centuries if not longer. To make a true and lasting connection with Nirn however would only weaken them and, by extension, their creation which made such an endeavor wasteful, not to mention downright foolish.

Not even the Princes could break that unspoken rule without consequences. Although many of the myths surrounding the creation of Nirn glossed over their involvement the Daedra had a considerable stake in Nirn's creation, supplying the raw 'material' that the Divines and other Aedra used to shape the world.

He and his fellow's strength was derived from their respective home plane of Oblivion and to create a lasting representation of their power required a sacrifice of the essence that made up those very same planes. It was one of the reasons Aldanon had never had to contend with a vengeful Mehrunes Dagon after his ascension, his little stunt of creating such a massive physical form during his short stay on Mundus and it's subsequent destruction at the jaws of Martin's avatar form had hit the Prince of Destruction hard.

Whereas before he'd been one of the strongest, with Jyggalag cursed and weakened as Sheogorath, he now barely ranked among the top seven. Many of the other, 'lesser' Princes had been circling him ever since just waiting for him to slip in some way though he had yet to falter.

Aldanon figured he'd crack eventually, the Prince of Change was nothing if not ambitious and impatient. One day he'd slip up and reach too far and someone would take him down a few more pegs.

Back to the matter at hand though. The feeling behind the energy as it coursed through him, leaving a rather heady feeling of invigoration in it's wake, wasn't familiar. One thing he'd noticed when dealing with his fellow Princes was that they all, even himself despite being mortal at one point, had a certain...flavor if you will to their power. Considering that the Daedra and Aedra shared a similar method of creation, if the myths held even a lick of truth to them, then it was safe to say that the Divines would all share the same 'taste' that he got from Talos and the hints of Akatosh's and Dibella's from his and Risi's own Blessings.

The power settling over his own now wasn't fundamentally different from that of the Divines however, simply far more potent. It was almost as if the Divines was...diluted in some way by comparison, which left a couple of likely suspects in Aldanon's mind. The most likely of which was one of the ancient Aedra that hadn't tied themselves to Nirn during it's making like the Divines, but since those kind went largely unnamed it wasn't likely he'd ever find out who was responsible. Not without incurring more debts to Mora at least.

Sorry bastard was rather prickly when those debts came due too.

Still as much as not knowing irked him Aldanon wouldn't indebt himself further to the inscrutable Prince for something so relatively trivial, not when he had larger concerns to deal with here in Skyrim though it would be something worth investigating whenever he found the time.

With that in mind he placed a Marker on the spot to for whenever he decided to return and set his sights eastward yet again, this time to the larger source of divine energy.

_'Considering the concentration of energy and the apparent theme,'_ Aldanon mused as he stepped out over the water once again. _'Then this next one is actually three in one spot. Wonder what they could be?'_

It took Aldanon nearly a half hour to reach the opposite shore at the same sedate pace he'd adopted earlier and thankfully found a road almost immediately. For whatever reason the map he'd bought didn't actually have any of the main roads marked, though the more natural features were rather lovingly rendered, which was something of a pain if he was honest. Either he'd have to add them in himself, which would be a time consuming chore, or hope that the native Nords were more intelligent than their Cyrodilic cousins and had proper maps he could get his hands on.

Again though it was a concern for later. Aldanon knew the general direction that he wanted to go, north in this case, both to investigate this next source of power and see what kind of damage Alduin had caused. The last irked Aldanon somewhat to tell the truth, though it was a relatively small matter any damage or deaths caused were indirectly his fault and that wasn't how he liked doing things.

He much preferred doing the destroying and killing personally.

As he made his way up the winding road the smell of blood and burning flesh reached his nose and Aldanon crinkled his nose in disgust at how fresh the smell was. It wasn't the blood that disgusted him, being a former assassin and Arena combatant had long since desensitized him to that, but the burning flesh dredged up some rather potent and unpleasant memories of his forays through Dagon's Gates in the later months of the Crisis, when the Elder Council finally started sending the Legion out to try and combat the swelling tide of Daedra.

Many of them died in that fiery realm and the Daedra had taken to leaving their bodies staked out like macabre trophies or warnings though really all it did was piss him off. It was also one of the main reasons he refused to use fire magic against his opponents anymore.

His first thought was Alduin, considering his penchant for fiery destruction, but the lack of any actual destruction to the surrounding area pointed to a much less powerful culprit in this case. That damnable sense of curiosity, both his own and the flighty one he'd found himself adopting the longer he wore Sheogorath's face, wouldn't let him just ignore something so potentially interesting.

The road branched off in several different directions a short ways north and Aldanon's nose had him turning south once again, this time uphill. In the distance he could just barely make out the silhouette of a statue in the shape of a man and, with a roll of his eyes, Aldanon already had a guess as to the cause of his little side trip.

Even with his duties as a Daedric Prince, dealing with wandering or invading Daedra and his own Court, Aldanon had not divorced himself completely from the goings on in Tamriel. He knew of the rise of the Thalmor and their almost centuries long shadow war with the Empire he'd fought so hard to protect. Their lies and oftentimes outright slander had rubbed him particularly raw at times such as their claiming credit for ending the Oblivion Crisis for one, or ending the so called Void Nights. The first Aldanon viewed as an insult to Martin and the other to he and the gods themselves.

The how and why of the disappearance of Masser and Secunda was considered a mystery to most mortals who had any sense but to a divine being it had marked a time of war. Aldanon's old nemesis Mannimarco had used his power over the moons to essentially move them to an alternate plane of existence in a bid to cause chaos and death for his followers to capitalize upon, which in turn had brought down the wrath of the Nine Divines upon him. From what Aldanon had heard from his followers on Mundus, the Divine Crusader and the legendary Knights of the Nine had perished battling against Mannimarco's mortal avatar and his army of necromancer's and undead over the course of the two year absence of Nirn's moons.

They hadn't waged their battles alone however. That war also marked the one and only time Aldanon would find himself working with another Prince besides Jyggalag and Hermaeus Mora, in the form of Meridia. His past conflict with Mannimarco and her hatred of his use of the dead made them strange, if fitting, compatriots and surprisingly enough the two had worked fairly well together.

While her worshipers worked to counter the God of Worms in the mortal realm alongside the Divine's agents Aldanon had worked mainly as a deterrent, keeping many of his fellow Princes from allying themselves with the ascended necromancer. Without the allies he'd likely hoped to get among the Daedra and his mortal cult harried on all sides Mannimarco could not hold out against the superior might and numbers arrayed against him.

And the Thalmor had the sheer gall to take all the credit once again.

It became clear that his suspicions would likely be proven all to real as he ascended the steps, made of rough cut logs, to a small plateau carved into the hillside with a tall statue of Talos overlooking the lake with a small shrine at it's feet. There were a couple of benches arrayed around the shrine and scattered around or draped over them were the smoking remains of several individuals, one of which was garbed in the robes of a priest.

"Hello?" A weak voice called out, drawing Aldanon's gaze away from the dead Talos worshipers. "Is...is somebody there?"

A few steps further and the source of the voice came into view, an Altmer garbed in hooded black robes with gold trimming trapped under the collapsed form of one of his badly burned victims. Aldanon carefully lifted the corpse off the elf, revealing a dagger buried deep in his side and several bloody gashes across his chest.

The elf grimaced and squinted up at Aldanon as he set the body to the side. "Who...are you?"

"Just a traveler from the heartland," Aldanon replied as settled on one knee to examine the Thalmor agent's wounds. "You?"

"Seeker Rulindil, of the Aldmeri Dominion," Rulindil ground out. "Now if you don't mind, I could use a hand here."

Aldanon scrutinized the wounded elf for a few moments before reaching down and firmly grasping the dagger hilt. With a quick pull and a splatter of red across the ground the dagger was free of the wound which prompted a small, pained groan from Rulindil.

"Gods, man! Are you _trying_ to finish me off?" He hissed.

"Quit your whining," Aldanon shot back with an amused smirk. "Don't they teach you Thalmor any healing magic before sending you out to hunt heathens?"

"The dagger was poisoned I think and my magicka isn't regenerating like it should. That bitch of a priestess surprised me after I'd finished off her fellows," Rulindil groused as he pulled himself into a sitting position. "Damn that Sanyon and his 'unconfirmed rumors', I should never have listened to him even if I did send these fools to their false god."

The severe frown marring Aldanon's face went completely unnoticed by the wounded Altmer as he started searching the pockets of his robe for something. Aldanon quickly wiped said frown away and replaced it with a more congenial smile.

"So...you going to make it then?"

"Have a healing potion around here somewhere," the elf muttered just as he pulled a red vial out.

Only for it to be snatched out of his hands by Aldanon.

"Tut, tut, my fine elven friend," Aldanon drawled mockingly. "I'm afraid your condition has taken a turn for the worse."

"What in Oblivion do you think you are doing!"

"Just diagnosing an ill man," came the innocent sounding reply. "I'm afraid you've come down with a rather severe case of hypocrisy, dear Rulindil."

Ignoring the elf's incoherent sputtering Aldanon scrutinized him for a moment before continuing. "While it's far from the being the worst case I've ever encountered I'm sorry to say that it's still far enough along that the end result will no doubt remain the same."

"And what might that be?" Rulindil demanded shakily. "You have no idea what yo-"

Any further words were cut off rather suddenly as Aldanon struck, driving the dagger up under Rulindil's chin and into his brain. The Altmer's body twitched once and then again as Aldanon twisted the blade violently and withdrew it in another shower of blood, leaving the dead elf sprawled out on the ground in a growing pool of blood.

"We may not see eye to eye on things," Aldanon said aloud as he absently cleaned the blood off his new dagger with a scrap of Rulindil's robe. "But I think we can both agree that they didn't deserve this."

Throwing the bloodied cloth aside he looked up towards Talos' imposing image. "I'll make sure they are buried properly at the very least and this trash disposed of in an appropriate manner."

Aldanon wasn't even certain that the Divine could even hear him through his shrine like he could his own supplicants. The sheer number of shrines devoted to Talos and the Divines and the ease of accessibility would probably make such a thing rather tedious. Still, it was the thought that counted.

He hadn't been speaking idly however about seeing to their burial. With a snap of his fingers four rifts whirled into existence around him that quickly dissipated to reveal the kneeling forms of three Aureal and a single Mazken.

"You summoned us, my Prince?" They spoke in unison.

"Yes I did," he said with a gesture to the carnage surrounding them. "I desire for these people's remains to be buried with as much dignity as can be managed considering the circumstances."

"As you command, my Prince."

"Hold, Nelrene," Aldanon said to the lone Mazken. "I have a slightly different task for you."

Nelrene paused in helping her counterparts in their task to stare quizzically at Aldanon. "What is it, my liege?"

He nudged Rulindil's body with his boot. "I want you to take this filth to Relmyna, wherever the damned woman has set up shop now. She's been complaining to me about a lack of fresh materials lately and I want to assure her that she'll soon have a steadier supply...starting with this one."

The old Captain of Aldanon's guard during his days as the Duke of Dementia, though she had since moved up the hierarchy to being second in command over all Mazken in his service, hefted the corpse over her shoulder and looked expectantly to Aldanon rather than dispel herself immediately.

"Very good," Aldanon praised, still somewhat surprised at how well she could still anticipate his actions. "Make sure to tell Relmyna that she has my permission to go forward with her latest experiments, without the usual restrictions."

That stopped all four of his subjects dead in their tracks. It was well known that he and Relmyna didn't always see eye to eye on the subject of her research, though it was less a matter of morality like some might expect of the former 'hero' but rather one of patience and restraint. Relmyna was constantly pushing further and further and on more than one occasion her failed experiments had broken loose to terrorize the Isles. The worst of which had actually required Aldanon himself to go out and deal with, which had marked the beginning of his direct oversight into the Dunmer's work and his insistence that she perfect her techniques and processes before moving onto a new experiment.

"Are...are you sure, my liege?" Nelrene asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Aldanon said firmly. "The wheel is turning, the world is changing and we must adapt to take advantage of new opportunities. Make sure that the Autkendo and Aurmazl have their forces prepared to handle any situations that may arise in my absence, I would much prefer _not_ having to return to the Isles more than necessary. There are larger issues that require my attention."

"As you will, my liege," Nelrene replied, disappearing back to the Isles in mid bow.

Aldanon watched for a few moments as his Aureal carefully gathered up the bodies of Talos' devotees to prepare them for their burial before turning and heading north once again. The sun was starting to go down and he would prefer to examine the next set of standing stones while he still had daylight to see by.

* * *

**A/N: Done and done! More world, lore, and character building for this chapter as well as some hints of Aldanon's past and current powers. As you can see he has a very powerful empathetic ability on top of his considerable magic skills. It may not seem like much but being able to read people's emotions would actually be very useful I'd say, especially for the patron god of madness and insanity. Makes it easier to know what you can torment people with, what makes them happiest or scares them the most so you can use it to drive them over the brink. He can also break several of the rules that restrict mortal practitioners of magic, like being able to summon far more than two daedra at one time, a feat restricted to masters of Conjuration, and no four is not his limit but he DOES have a limit rest assured. He isn't just going to be able to summon an army of Aureal/Golden Saints or Mazken/Dark Seducers at the drop of a hat without creating another Gate like the one in Niben Bay.**

**As you all can see Aldanon does NOT have a very good opinion of the Thalmor though who can blame him? I simply made it more potent with my version of the Void Nights and it's cause. Mannimarco never really seems to be such a big deal in anything after Daggerfall, where he was an important questgiver, despite being a god. Yes, despite his rather dismal showing in Oblivion the Altmer necromancer actually DID ascend thanks to the events of Daggerfall and the Warp in the West. He seemed to channel his power through the moons, with his followers making Black Soul Gems during a particular phase of the moons in Oblivion, hence him being behind their disappearance, Aldanon's role in the situation and his feelings on the Thalmor claiming the credit.**

**By Damon it is difficult creating a comprehensive backstory for a character and story like this. Bethesda made it especially difficult by suddenly shoe-horning dragons into the lore. Bethesda made it a point to map out pretty much every important event since the beginning of time over the course of the series that you could find out if you took the time to read and yet not one word about dragons or any wars against them...which would be a rather big thing I'd think, especially considering they lasted sometime into the First Era until the Blades appeared and hunted them pretty much to extinction over the next couple of centuries. For those of you who don't know this, the Merethic Era lasted for 2,500 years, the First for 2,920 so that's around 5,000 years dragons lived in greater numbers in Tamriel. By my best estimates the first Dragon War and Alduin's defeat took place somewhere between ME 1000-800, wherein Ysgramor lead the largest colonization effort from Atmora at the time, and 1E 139, when King Harald began a war with the Falmer/Snow Elves. The Nordic culture hadn't really established itself firmly enough before Ysgramor and his Companions were forced to defend themselves from the Falmer to support the Dragon Cult that became prominent both in Tamriel and Atmora and by the time of King Harald the Cult, while still a serious enough threat to warrant diverting an army to squash as we learn from a journal in the quest "Siege of the Dragon Cult", is little more than a bad memory and scattered pockets of zealous hold outs. Poor Alduin was stuck outside of time for AT LEAST 4,451 years (the sum total years in the four Eras, not counting whatever might be tacked on if he was defeated somewhere in the middle of my estimate of the Dragon War taking place) **

**By contrast Aldanon's past is actually quite easy to write though no less time consuming than all that above (and that's honestly a fraction of the research I've done since taking up this endeavor) thanks to all the facts I have to recheck about Oblivion since I can't remember everything on command and don't really have the time to load up and play it yet again.**

**Anyways, enough babbling on my part. If you like what you see, have any questions for me, or any mistakes to bring to my attention feel free to review. The next chapter will likely feature a little action at last and will introduce some of the more recognizable faces from Skyrim to Aldanon. Onward!**


	5. Don't Worry

**The Edge of Madness**

**Chapter 4: Don't Worry...**

It was fairly late the next day when Aldanon finally managed to rouse himself from his bed. He'd spent most of the rest of the day before toying with the four standing stones he'd found, teleporting back and forth between them to compare their effects.

The three he'd found just up the road from Talos' shrine had been marked with the signs for the Warrior, Mage and Thief respectively and had taken him hours to figure out exactly what they were meant to do. They were meant to be training aids of a sort though when compared to his own considerable experience it was hard to tell how effective they might be. Under their effects though he'd found himself consciously remembering little facts and details that he'd read, like his studies into the school of Conjuration, or seen, such as the stances his old teacher had drilled into him, throughout the course of his life whereas before such knowledge was more instinctual.

He'd even come close to understanding how to pick a lock properly for probably the first time in his life thanks to the Thief stone!

In the end however Aldanon had returned to the Lady for her power. The stone provided more than just an invigorating feeling he'd found with some more experimentation. It actually boosted his already phenomenal healing rate to a level that would probably be considered freakish by mortal standards but which suited his needs just fine and provided an excellent cover for his natural godly regeneration.

With his daylight spent Aldanon had resigned himself to searching for lodgings for the night and thus followed the road a short ways from the trio of standing stones to a small village, which he later learned was called Riverwood, situated around a lumber mill. It was late enough that no one was out and about but thankfully not so late that the local inn, the Sleeping Giant, was closed for the evening.

He'd smiled briefly at the surprise that radiated from the woman who apparently ran the inn followed by a blast of paranoia so strong he almost wondered if his old "friend" Syl had been reincarnated before dismissing the idea out of hand. Poor woman wouldn't chance one of her old enemies somehow finding out and coming after her in the next life.

The fact that Delphine, as she'd later introduced herself, hadn't even _once_ shown an ounce of the suspicion, one iota of the paranoid thoughts he didn't doubt were buzzing through her head, was very impressive and indicative of great acting skills. Far better than his had been before he joined the Brotherhood at any rate. He'd nearly botched the mission alongside Baurus way back when they were trying to discover the Mythic Dawn's hidden shrine by choosing to meet the representative himself and been outed almost immediately.

That hadn't been pretty, at least not for the cultists, but he and Baurus had felt much better after such a well deserved slaughter.

She'd given him a polite, though not particularly friendly, smile while yelling at the grumbling man at the bar to get some food for their late guest before going to prepare a room after Aldanon had handed over the requisite amount of gold for the night. From the sounds of it they were having a go at each other again.

"Orgnar? Orgnar!" Delphine's voice barked out in the main room. "Are you listening?"

"Hard not too," came Orgnar's growling reply.

"The ale's going bad. We need to get a new batch."

A few seconds of silence followed, quickly broken by an annoyed sounding Delphine. "Did you hear me?"

"Yep. Ale's going bad," was the unconcerned retort.

"I guess you don't have potatoes in your ears after all. Just make sure we get a fresh batch in soon."

To an outsider that exchange might have indicated a strained relationship between a demanding employer and a lazy employee. To Aldanon, who could see deeper shades and _feel_ the emotions driving said interaction, it was anything but.

Delphine _trusted_ Orgnar. There was not one shred of doubt in her mind that the man was trustworthy. Everyone else that he'd seen her talk to or interact with the night before, that being the bard, a woman he was apparently courting, the Bosmer that seemed to be his rival for said paramour and their boss from the mill, had been treated with a carefully guarded sense of caution that, while a vast improvement over her view toward Aldanon, was still a little odd considering how comfortable _they_ were with her.

Still, there was no doubt that Delphine trusted Orgnar and that he knew it. Knew how much it meant to have that trust even, if the sense of quiet amusement Aldanon could feel at both her ribbing and his own nonchalant attitude was any indication. That kind of trust, the bond that it represented, was something that Aldanon rather missed.

He'd formed that kind of bond with Agronak during his time in the Arena before their final battle and with Baurus and Martin before the former's reassignment outside of Cyrodiil after the Crisis and the latter's sacrifice. Later his brothers and sisters at the Sanctuary at Cheydinhal had filled the gap, but the less he thought about them the less likely he was to slaughter everything in sight, and Caranya and Traven had been the last he dared get close to while he was still mortal.

_'Well that is a depressing line of thought,'_ Aldanon thought glumly as he stretched out the kinks in his back from sleeping on the narrow bed.

The only person Aldanon honestly would say he actually trusted anymore was Haskill. That poor man had put up with him longer than anyone what with Aldanon constantly summoning him if he needed something explained or an ear for an idea he had. Despite his rather bored demeanor Haskill was probably one of the most quick witted and imaginative individuals Aldanon had ever met not to mention having the patience of a saint.

Of course considering who Haskill worked for, both then and now, he certainly needed it.

Making sure he was presentable, a proper impression being a must for someone of his station mortal or otherwise, Aldanon flung open his door.

"Good morning!"

The common room was empty save for Delphine and Orgnar, the former tending to the fire pit in the center of the room and the latter lounging at his customary spot behind the bar. Everyone else in the small village was probably working by now.

"It's almost noon," Delphine deadpanned.

"And thus not _yet _noon nor quite _after_noon, ergo good morning!" Aldanon rejoined, throwing his arms out wide for dramatic effect.

"Great, a vagabond philosopher," Delphine muttered while rolling her eyes, earning an amused snort for Orgnar and a pout from Aldanon.

"Nobody appreciates my logic," Aldanon said, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "So, not to late for something to eat is it?"

"Nah we've got some food set aside for guests," Orgnar told him. "Simple stuff mostly, you want something warm you're gonna have to wait."

"No need, I have to get on the road soon anyway," Aldanon said. "Some bread, fruit and...do you have Eidar by any chance?"

Orgnar looked at Delphine, obviously not recognizing the name, and she shook her head.

"Not likely to find any in smaller settlements," she explained. "Costs too much for smaller establishments like this one to import it for sale. You'd have better luck in the capitals or the Khajiit caravans if you really want some."

_'Khajiit caravans?'_ Aldanon wondered as he swallowed a slice of apple before giving voice to the thought. "Khajiit caravans? What are they doing so far north?"

"Profiting on the war, what else?" Delphine said with an unconcerned shrug. "Their leader Ri'saad showed up shortly after it began and set up a small but profitable trade route and before we knew it there were two more caravans moving between the hold capitals buying and selling all sorts of goods."

"Kind of surprising the Legion or Stormcloaks wouldn't crack down on them," Aldanon mused aloud. "Last I knew the Legion didn't take kindly to war profiteering and with Elsweyr allied with the Dominion I can't imagine they'd be very popular with either side."

"Some might think so but Ri'saad is a crafty cat," Delphine replied with an approving grin. "The caravans don't just deal in weapons and armor they carry supplies that smaller settlements need as well that neither the Legion or Stormcloaks can spare without risk of the other raiding the shipments. They've made themselves valuable so the only things they have to watch out for are monsters, bandits and the Forsworn of the Reach."

"Clever," Aldanon said with all honesty. He hadn't met a dull Khajiit in his lifetime and many of them, even the relatively meek J'skar from Bruma's Mages Guild chapter, were dangerous in their own way especially if cornered.

"Well you won't meet them around here. None of their routes take them to Falkreath so the only way we can do business with them is to make the trip to Whiterun," Delphine said.

"You said you needed to hit the road soon?" Orgnar asked as Aldanon took a swig of ale, one of his own considering the conversation earlier. "Where ya headed?"

"North," Aldanon replied with a mental smirk at the slightly annoyed feeling radiating from the two.

They were trying to dig information from him, much like he did with Markus and Vilod the day before in Helgen. Aldanon didn't really see any harm in indulging them, paranoia notwithstanding he didn't get any bad feelings from either, but that didn't mean he was going to make it easy for them.

"You should be careful then," Delphine said with a hint of warning. "The further north you go the more likely you are to get caught between Legion and Stormcloak forces wherever they clash."

Aldanon had to give her credit for the prompt, and it _was_ a prompt, carefully crafted into concern for a simple seeming traveler. He very much wanted to continue the game, it being a favorite pastime of his messing with some of his sillier courtiers, but Aldanon didn't think Delphine would appreciate it. This probably wasn't a game to her, whoever she might be, and whatever enemies she had to produce such a powerful paranoid tic.

"Well my ultimate goal is Winterhold and it's College," Aldanon admitted finally, sticking to his earlier fabrication. "Being as the College itself is neutral in the war and Winterhold isn't much to speak of either tactically or economically after the Great Collapse I figured I'd be safe enough once I get there."

Delphine nodded with a hint of grudging approval. "Pretty well thought out plan. You thinking of enrolling at the College then? We've had a couple prospective students come through from Cyrodiil before and they've mentioned some pretty stringent admittance tests."

"Enroll? As a student?" Aldanon asked with an amused sense of curiosity, inwardly he sighed.

_'And now trying to determine what kind of a threat I could be,'_ Aldanon thought. _'This woman really doesn't do anything by halves...so why not respond in kind?'_

He extended one hand out and a small stream of magicka lashed out towards the fire pit. Delphine flinched much to Orgnar's confusion, her Breton heritage giving her an innate ability to sense active magicka unlike her Nord companion, and both gawked when a tendril of flame snaked it's way out of the pit to curl around Aldanon's arm before detaching itself from it's source.

"If I join I think I'd rather teach," he said with a touch of smugness.

What he'd done was an old test used to determine one's mastery in the school of Destruction. Creating the common elemental forces from pure magicka was a remarkably simple process and directing them was even more so though your options were generally little more than point and shoot with the vast majority of spells. Infusing your magicka into existing elements and shaping them like he'd just done, and before in Helgen to cover his teleportation, was far more difficult since they had a mass, in the case of ice, or energy, fire and lightning, all of their own that resisted outside influences.

Sometimes very violently and with deadly consequences. Hence why they'd been replaced with much safer and less strenuous methods decades before Aldanon was born but they were still taught by older mages, like his grandfather, who expected more from their students or apprentices than standard practitioners.

"Well," Delphine said after a moment. "I guess _you_ won't have to worry about anyone messing with you around here."

"Quite," Aldanon replied with a predatory grin. "Still I'm going to have to make a short detour to Whiterun to pick up a decent map before I can terrorize the ne'er-do-wells of Skyrim properly."

"A...map?" Delphine ventured with a little confusion.

Aldanon rolled his eyes and reached into his pouch to draw out his "defective" map for their perusal. A raised eyebrow was the extent of her reaction but Orgnar let out a snort of incredulous laughter when he got a good look at it.

"What in Oblivion _is_ that?" He said once he'd reigned in his laughter. "It's pretty looking sure enough but.."

"Hardly practical, I know," Aldanon finished with a sigh. "Probably some idiot artist's attempt at being creative. Only reason I bothered with it was because it was the only map I could find of Skyrim down south that has the hold capitals marked. Figured it wouldn't be too hard for someone like me to get somewhere I could find a proper map."

"Then Whiterun would be your best bet," Delpine told him. "The Riverwood Trader doesn't deal in things like that but I'm sure Belethor, he runs the general store in Whiterun, will have what you're looking for. Sitting at the center of all the trade roads through Skyrim means they usually have the widest variety of goods for sale."

Aldanon blinked mid-bite as _something_ had just shifted in this little encounter of theirs. She most certainly didn't trust him any more than she did before their impromptu interrogation but Delphine no longer considered him a possible threat to her, or not a very serious one at least. He wasn't the only one who realized it either as Orgnar's slightly tense emotions eased a bit as he spoke up.

"If you follow the main road north across the bridge and along the river you'll reach the Honningbrew Meadery in a couple hours," Orgnar supplied. "Take a left at the crossroads there and you'll be at Whiterun's gates in no time."

Aldanon absently brushed some bread crumbs off his tunic, unwittingly coming close to setting himself on fire in the process, and nodded in thanks.

"Thanks for the information," he said as he stepped away from the counter and towards the door. "I probably shouldn't linger. No sense depriving the various beasties of Skyrim a chance at my hide any longer."

The sheer certainty of that statement, like Aldanon was expecting to be jumped by something the moment he stepped out the door which to be honest he almost was considering how strenuously _everything_ seemed to object to his presence, coaxed a pair of wry grins from the inn owners.

"Keep an eye on the skies, traveler," Orgnar called out before Aldanon had crossed half the room. "If Hilde is to be believed there are worse things out there than bandits and beasts to watch out for."

Aldanon waved absently to show he heard but didn't pause until he'd reached the door when Delphine coughed in that particular way people seemed to think would grab someone's attention. He looked over his shoulder to see her pointing at him, the wry grin quickly becoming a smirk.

"You're forgetting something I think," she said.

Looking down to where Delphine was pointing he _finally_ noticed the long tendril of flame wrapped around his arm, still merrily burning away at the magicka he'd fed into it.

"Oh right," was all he said as he held his hand out again.

The tendril slowly unwound itself from his arm and slithered like some kind of fiery serpent through the air until it was lost amid the crackling flames that spawned it as Aldanon pulled his magicka back into himself.

"Farewell," Aldanon called over his shoulder as he stepped outside. _'For now at least.'_

Aldanon knew he would be back here at some point. Someone with that much baggage weighing them down was almost certain to need his help in some way, or have someone interested in hiring others to do the dirty work of dealing with them, if his past experiences were anything to go by. Even if Delphine didn't Aldanon would make it a point to revisit sometime in the future, she intrigued the Sheogorath in him too much to simply leave her be.

Who knew what kind of fun they could scare up by poking that particular hornet's nest?

Again that was something to consider later, whenever his other half finally grew bored of trying to deal with Alduin, for now he would content himself with going north like he'd told the two at the inn.

A brief sweep with his senses told him that Alduin wasn't in Skyrim at the moment which meant that he'd either retreated to one of the planes of Aetherius, a plausible scenario considering his last destination seemed to be that Gate to the east, or simply in another part of Tamriel being as Aldanon's senses only extended slightly beyond Skyrim's northern border, to the edges of the eastern and western borders and partway into Cyrodiil to the south.

There really wasn't anything worth noting close by either, or at least nothing powerful enough to register above the overwhelming pulses of power pouring out of the nearby standing stones. Aldanon pursed his lips thoughtfully as he pondered that fact, he would need to refine his senses further now that he was back on Mundus.

In the Shivering Isles he alone reigned supreme and there wasn't a corner of his domain that Aldanon didn't know intimately, anything foolish enough to trespass therein was found and dealt with in short order. Here though was a source of conflict, a power far older and in many ways equal to his own, the likes of which he hadn't encountered since his battle with Jyggalag two centuries ago. .

_'It's actually quite exhilarating,'_ he thought as he absently caught another one of those perpetually starving wolves that seemed to infest Skyrim in mid leap with an overpowered telekinesis spell and flung it across the nearby river.

Aldanon hadn't faced a proper challenge since his ascension. For reasons that Aldanon could only guess at Jyggalag hadn't continued his campaign against the Shivering Isles after he'd fully recovered from their duel. Indeed the Prince of Order had actually _mentored_ him, teaching him the ins and outs of his new powers and responsibilities, despite their conflicting domains. He was almost certain that it was fear of Jyggalag, who'd all but disappeared into the ether after ensuring Aldanon was stable in his role as Sheogorath, and his apparent alliance with Aldanon that kept many of the more opportunistic Princes from testing their luck against the newborn god.

It probably sounded arrogant but he doubted he would actually need Jyggalag's aid should such a thing have happened. He'd proven his superiority against Jyggalag in a one on one fight and it had taken a fair few of their fellows to overpower him long enough to curse the Prince of Order and he very much doubted that the ones with any real power as of late would find the common ground necessary to unite once again.

The short war behind the Void Nights didn't count for much either. The Nine hadn't taken issue with his and Meridia's involvement once it was clear they weren't helping Mannimarco and Aldanon, despite his confidence in his power, didn't think it prudent to take a more direct hand in what was really none of his affair. His personal vendetta against Mannimarco couldn't really compare.

While this mysterious power certainly wasn't _threatening_ by any means it was still an obstacle of sorts for him to overcome and Aldanon could certainly appreciate it as a chance to improve himself. As a god it wasn't an oft occurrence that he _could_ grow even if his human roots did allow for it, if Jyggalag was to be believed, and this would be a good chance to test the validity of that fact.

A small tremor, just barely strong enough to be recognized as such, broke through Aldanon's thoughts and brought him back to the present just in time to hear an indistinct roar in the distance. It was no dragon that much was sure if his short experience with Alduin was any measure. There was none of the sheer, Thu'um driven, malice that had accompanied Alduin's own 'expressions', not to mention that it seemed far to weak considering how close it sounded.

A quick glance at his surroundings revealed that he'd reached the crossroads that Orgnar had told him about with the Meadery sitting just to his left, which he quickly Marked for future reference, and Whiterun off in the distance. Another roar echoed through the air followed closely by another, slightly stronger, tremor and now that he was paying attention he could pinpoint it's location.

West, somewhere down along the road that Orgnar had recommended he take to get to Whiterun.

Aldanon moved at a considerably faster pace than before, he certainly didn't want to miss whatever was happening after all, drawing some curious looks from the few guards on patrol as he sped past them far quicker than most normal people could ever hope to move.

A farm came into sight in short order, with several fields and a windmill alongside a modest looking farmhouse. Yet another roar tore through the calm air and this time Aldanon could see the it's source. There was a tall, gray-skinned humanoid, a giant if Aldanon remembered rightly, standing in the middle of one of the fields stomping around and swinging a massive club at four figures darting around it's legs.

Aldanon couldn't say that he was very impressed with the creature, though if he'd encountered one back during his mortal days that would likely be a different story. It was of similar height to Passwall's old Gatekeepers, Relmyna having made several "improvements" since he first set foot in the Shivering Isles, but was far to skinny to pack the kind of physical strength they'd had at their disposal.

A moment later the giant decided to prove him wrong as it smashed it's massive stone club into the largest of it's attackers, sending the heavily armored man flying back twenty feet to crash into the side of the windmill.

_'Well damn, that guy must weigh a couple hundred pounds in all that gear'_ Aldanon thought with no small amount of surprise. _'Damned thing's much stronger than it looks.'_

The man's three companions, all women he could tell now that he was closer, reacted in various ways. A redhead in rather revealing armor almost _howled_ in fury, a strange thing to hear from a human to be sure, and unleashed a veritable barrage of arrows against their opponent which thudded solidly but ineffectually into the giant's chest and hand, which it had brought up to shield it's face.

Another woman with short dark hair and a sword and shield tried to flank the giant but it wasn't having any of that, kicking out unexpectedly to land a glancing hit on her shield that she'd barely managed to raise in time and sent her spinning to the ground, dazed but still able to crawl out of it's reach and climb unsteadily to her feet.

It was the third woman though that caught his attention, more to the point the very recognizable shock of fiery red hair on her head. Aldanon blinked in surprise when he recognized Risi, cleaned up and garbed in simple fur-lined leather armor, as she darted forward to land a couple of glancing blows on the giant's calf with a pair of mismatched longswords before dancing past as it tried unsuccessfully to hit her.

_'That woman has to have the worst luck in Tamriel,'_ Aldanon thought with a sigh as he came to a stop just on the other side of the low wall separating the field from the road. _'Or no sense of self preservation, one of the two.'_

He watched for a moment as the three continued to keep it busy while their larger friend struggled to pick himself back up and get back into the fight. The redhead with the bow was very skilled, all of her shots hitting vital areas except where the giant managed to guard itself, chiefly it's eyes and face, but the speed she was firing them at prevented her from putting any significant amount of force behind them.

It did keep the giant from focusing it's full attention on the other two as they darted about it's legs, doing their damnedest to cut through it's thick leathery hide. Risi's swords weren't of very good quality though and the most damage she could manage to inflict was superficial at best and only served to aggravate it. The dark haired woman's sword was better suited to the task, having opened some pretty deep gashes along it's arm and hand but the giant also realized this and was so far keeping her away from its more vulnerable bits with it's superior reach and strength.

He watched with a critical eye for a few more moments trying to determine whether or not he'd actually have to intervene. Risi was the odd woman out in the fray, the other two working in tandem too well to be fresh partners, and she introduced a rather chaotic factor into the fight. They didn't let it hinder their attacks, rather the two had actually let Risi take the lead and worked to cover her and take advantage of openings she created. It was an effective tactic to be sure but there was so much that could go wrong. One slip, just one mistake, could mean death or a severe injury for either woman close to the giant.

Aldanon _could_ go toe-to-toe with it, he'd actually been able to do the same with the very first Gatekeeper for a short while thanks to a considerable amount of preparation on his part after watching it demolish a group of adventurers, but right now he looked nothing like the powerful battlemage he had once been which would needlessly distract the others and leave them open to attack in the short time it would take him to close in and engage. Only Risi would be able to recognize him as something far more dangerous than he appeared but he doubted she'd react well to seeing him again.

Aldanon _could_ kill the giant in a single shot with some of his more powerful spells if he so chose but it would require fine aiming and a fair amount of power. The giant was deceptively quick however and it's movements while fighting it's opponents were to hard to predict accurately. _Any_ spell he fired off might very well hit something else, like the windmill or house, and cause a considerable amount of damage.

Definitely not the best way to introduce himself.

A moment later his dithering was rendered pointless as the giant, having grown tired it's persistent attackers and enraged by it's many small wounds, gave a mighty roar and stomped the ground with all of it's considerable strength. A cloud of debris and dust shot skyward and the earth quaked unlike anything Aldanon had felt since Mehrunes Dagon set foot in the Imperial City.

The redhead's next shot went wild as she stumbled just barely managing to keep her feet, but her ability to fight was ruined as her bowstring snapped under the sudden strain. Her dark haired friend was too close to the attack and was hit by a vicious followup backhand that sent her flying across the field to crash into, and through, a low stone wall and he doubted she'd be getting back up without help anytime soon. Their male companion, who had _finally_ regained his feet and senses, stumbled in the middle of his attempt to charge the giant's blind spot and ended up falling flat on his face.

In a curious sense of déjà vu Risi wasn't sent flying away, instead she fell flat on her back with the giant towering over her menacingly. It's dark eyes settled on her as the easiest prey within reach and it raised it's club over it's head, preparing to bring it down and crush the Blessed woman into paste. To her credit she didn't scream like Aldanon half expected her too, he might have if he found himself in her situation in the old days, but sadly her reaction wasn't very impressive as she raised one sword up in a feeble show of defense.

_'And there's my cue,'_ Aldanon thought before shouting. "Pendragon to the rescue!"

His hand glowed with power as it snapped out deceptively fast...to no noticeable effect. With another grunting roar it brought down it's club to crush Risi for good but halfway there Aldanon's hand snapped back and the club shot out of it's hands like they were coated with butter. It flew through the air before coming to a stop in midair above Aldanon. The giant stared blankly at it's empty hands in confusion for a brief moment before Aldanon got it's attention.

"Hey, ugly!" Aldanon shouted. "Catch!"

His hand snapped forward once again and the club shot forward at impressive speeds directly at the giant's face. Unprepared for the sudden and rather unorthodox attack the giant didn't have the presence of mind to defend itself or even dodge and thus caught a face full of it's own club.

With a dull cracking sound the massive stone club ricocheted off it's dull gray forehead. It stumbled back a step or two staring in Aldanon's general direction though he doubted it was in any shape to actually see him anymore and opened it's mouth.

"Whuh?"

That simple utterance was all the preceded it into the afterlife as the heavily armored man slammed viciously into into it's shins and sent it toppling over backwards with a resounding crash. The other redhead dashed forward, spring boarding off the prone form of her companion to land on the giant. Two swift strides brought her level with it's face and she drew a long steel dagger from her belt and plunged it deeply into it's eye, and then again in the other.

With one last shudder the mighty creature finally died.

Aldanon stepped over the low wall before him and strode quickly over to where the dark haired woman had landed and had yet to move. He kept one ear open though to listen to the others as they recovered.

"Is it dead, Aela?" The man asked in a slow, gruff voice.

"It damn well better be, icebrain," Aela snapped back though it lacked any real heat. "What was that back there, letting it hit you like that? Did you leave what little sense you have back at Jorrvaskr?"

_'Jorrvaskr sounds very familiar,'_ Aldanon thought as he examined the comatose woman.

It only took him a moment to remember where he'd heard the name before. Jorrvaskr was the name of the ancient mead hall that Skyrim's Companions had called home for nearly five thousand years, it actually predated most of the permanent Nord settlements in Skyrim with the exception of Markarth which had been a Dwemer city long before the Nords took it over.

He'd done extensive research over the course of his tenure as the Arch-Mage into the history of Skyrim shortly after he'd taken an interest in visiting the College of Winterhold and one of the biggest pieces of history he'd found revolved around Ysgramor and his Five Hundred Companions. They were a rather well respected group much like the Fighters Guild just much older and far more insular, having not left Skyrim in an era or two. The Companions were the reason that the Guild had never managed to add Skyrim to it's list of client nations, a list that included _every_ other civilized land in Tamriel, the native Nords preferring their own brand one could say.

"It got lucky is all," the aforementioned 'icebrain' retorted defensively. "Sides, I'm tough enough to take anything it could throw at me and you know it."

Aela just snorted but like her earlier tirade it lacked any heat and was more amused than anything. "I'm sure, Farkas, but that doesn't help _us_ much when you aren't there to keep it occupied."

"Ria! You alright girl?" Farkas called out, his memory apparently jogged enough to remember their other partner. Aela looked over in slight concern as she helped a shaky Risi back to her feet.

Ria, for her part, merely groaned as Aldanon's healing spell surged through her, healing the majority of her wounds in a single burst. Something that, as Aldanon could attest to, was actually rather unpleasant to feel and left one disoriented for several minutes so he took it upon himself to speak up for her.

"She'll be fine," he called back as he effortlessly heaved the woman back to her feet and made sure she was able to stand on her own before whirling around to fix Risi with a stern look. "And you!"

She froze at his shout and when she finally got a good look at him her eye's widened in surprise as she recognized him. "You...but not...dragon..."

Ignoring her babbling, and the overwhelming explosion of shock that radiated out from her, Aldanon advanced on her with an admonishing finger leading and with Ria following along dazedly.

"Honestly woman," he continued. "What are you thinking, picking a fight with one of the most dangerous things to live in Skyrim? Was staring down the dragon not exciting enough for you?"

A slight twinge of embarrassment followed, the poor woman actually blushing a bit when his words hit home, accompanied by three more bursts of surprise from the Companions around them. It was, to Aldanon's mild surprise, quickly overridden by an intense feeling that, if he had to put a name to it, he would say was righteous indignation coming from Risi's fellow redhead.

"I'd say she handled herself quite well," Aela said with conviction. "I'd be proud to call her Shield-Sister."

Farkas and Ria nodded firmly in agreement and Risi's blush deepened in a pleased sort of way. Although Aldanon doubted she actually knew exactly _who_ they were he was fairly sure she realized they were probably important in some way if the way the three had worked together and Farkas' armor, with the stylized markings and snarling wolf's head on the breastplate, were any indication.

"Quite the compliment, especially coming from a Companion," Aldanon replied. "I wasn't questioning her skill though, her judgment on the other hand...there's a fine line between being brave and being foolhardy. One I'm rather familiar with myself actually now that I think about it."

That seemed to ease some of the tension that was building up between them, now that the dregs of the adrenalin rush from the battle were finally wearing off, and Aldanon decided it was probably safe to continue albeit with a little more tact he supposed.

"I honestly hope you aren't intending to make a habit of this, dear Risi," he said in a slightly lighter tone. "This is the second time in as many days I've stepped in to save you from something that wanted you dead."

"Yes well..." Risi mumbled, obviously at a loss for words for a moment before she gathered her wits enough to actually give a proper response. "Thank you but...what are you doing here?"

"You're quite welcome," Aldanon said. "Though I'm not entirely sure what you mean."

"I mean what are you doing _here_?" Risi shot back. "You said it yourself, this is the second time you've stepped in to save me! Why? You just disappeared after taking down that dragon and now suddenly you're here? Are you following me, what do you want?"

_'Well that's gratitude for ya,'_ Aldanon huffed internally.

He couldn't help but wonder where the sudden suspicion had come from. Sure she hadn't exactly had a stellar introduction to Skyrim hospitality what with the Empire mucking things up, as usual, but he had gone out of his way to save her life twice so far and most people wouldn't take that so negatively.

Unfortunately he wasn't the only one to pick up on the sudden change in Risi's emotions. Both Farkas and Aela shared barely noticeable glances before their demeanor's abruptly shifted in unison to a surprisingly fierce protective...instinct was the closest word Aldanon could think of to describe it. Ria was a little slower on the uptake but didn't take long to realize something was wrong and Aldanon was peripherally aware of her carefully laying a hand on the hilt of her sword.

_'Well damn,'_ Aldanon thought succinctly. _'Time to put my story to the test and maybe lay on a little charm.'_

"Well," he began slowly. "As of about a month ago I'm just an adventuring battlemage hailing from Cyrodiil that decided he wanted to visit the College up at Winterhold and maybe see the rest of Skyrim in the bargain. I'd heard quite a bit about the war with the Stormcloaks so I stopped at Helgen, barely an hour before _you_ arrived actually, to get the latest news and learn how much trouble I might get into by going further north but...well you know what happened there."

Risi nodded slowly. It was rather difficult for anyone to forget seeing a dragon utterly demolish an entire Imperial company and their outpost in a matter of minutes...or the man who'd blasted the Oblivion spawned thing right out of the sky after it tried to kill them.

Suddenly her antagonistic attitude, and the reaction it garnered from the Companions, didn't seem like such a great idea.

"It took me a little while to work my way back to the main roads from around Lake Ilinalta and it was getting pretty late by the time I arrived in Riverwood. I spent the night there before making my way towards Whiterun shortly after noon to pick up a few more essential supplies from Belethor's shop at the innkeeper's, Delphine's, suggestion."

"You must have set out shortly after I did," Risi murmured as she let the tension bleed out of her with a quiet sigh.

Likewise the Companions relaxed, once it became clear that Risi didn't consider him a threat, and the two older members began fussing, though he doubted they'd call it that themselves, over their younger friend to make sure she didn't have any lingering injuries from her brief but violent encounter with the wall.

For her part Risi was staring at him rather intently, searchingly one might say, as though trying to find something familiar or suspicious about him.

"Something on my face?" Aldanon asked, then cocked his head as though considering something. "Other than my beard that is?"

To her credit she barely even blinked at his rather...peculiar addendum. "No nothing like that, it's just that you seem...familiar somehow, like we met a long time ago in passing but haven't seen each other since."

Risi shook her head as though to banish the thought. "It's ridiculous, I mean I don't even know your name!"

"Well I suppose I could remedy that at least," Aldanon replied with a small smile. "Aldanon Pendragon, battlemage and adventurer, at your service."

"Risi Soul-Fang, of the Imperial City," she responded with a nod. "I guess you could call me...a freelancer of a sort. It's a recent development you could say."

Aldanon hummed thoughtfully but didn't bother to pry. He didn't really need his empathic abilities to tell that she was troubled by something or that she likely wasn't in Skyrim entirely by choice. He'd met several corrupt Legionnaires in his time and they'd all had that same "oily" feeling that the Captain back in Helgen had positively oozed. He sincerely doubted her overzealous persecution of the young woman before him was a coincidence.

Unlike with Delphine however this was _not_ business he was willing to meddle in, not unless Risi chose to involve him or their paths crossed like they had both here and at Helgen. Blessed always had some trial or hardship to overcome or a goal to achieve during their lives to balance out their patron's favor. Normally it wouldn't be such a problem for two Blessed to help each other if they met but very little he did could_ ever_ be called normal and he wasn't sure how the Divines would react to godly interference.

"Better safe than sorry," as one of his worshipers was fond of saying...as often as he possibly could.

"Um..." Risi started hesitantly. "If you're heading to Whiterun do you...would you be willing to help me again?"

"Help with what exactly?" Aldanon asked.

"The miller and her family back in Riverwood asked me to bring word to the Jarl here about the dragon attack on Helgen and see if he would send a small garrison to protect the village," she explained. "He might take me more seriously if I had someone to back up my story, especially someone who actually fought it."

Aldanon put on a show of thinking about it for a few moments, though there really was no question in his mind about whether or not he'd help her. This was a golden opportunity for him to work his way into Skyrim's power structure without having to jump through a ridiculous number of hoops like he'd had to do for the various Counts and Countesses of Cyrodiil just to get them to actually work together.

While Tamriel certainly faced a threat on par with the Oblivion Crisis with Alduin's return the situation was still in it's infancy and it would be much easier to get in their good graces when they didn't have destruction raining down around them and distracting them.

"I don't see any reason why not," Aldanon replied. "I'm in no real hurry to get to the College and getting word out about the dragon is rather important."

Risi's sigh of relief was barely audible and followed by a nearly silent "Thank the Divines," that brought a small smile to his face.

"You should come with us then," Aela broke in having satisfied herself with Ria's well being, though Aldanon noted with some amusement that Farkas was quite literally _sniffing_ the poor woman as she tried, albeit halfheartedly, to fend him off. "The guards have been on high alert since yesterday and haven't been letting anyone not on 'official business' through the gates. The Companions are exempt of course and I doubt it would take much to get you two through with us."

_'Not that they could really stop me if I wanted to get into the city,'_ Aldanon mused. _'Course now that they offered it would be mighty rude to refuse.'_

"You're offer is most appreciated," Aldanon replied. "Please, lead the way."

With a small grin the red head did just that, latching onto Risi in the process and dragging the younger woman back towards the road and engaging her in animated, yet quiet, conversation. Farkas shook his head at his Shield-Sister's antics and followed after them, leaving Aldanon and Ria to bring up the rear of their little procession.

Aldanon didn't miss the curious looks that Ria was shooting him as they made their down the road and he could feel her curiosity building, with almost every step, until finally she couldn't take it anymore.

"So the rumors are true then?" She blurted out. "About the dragon I mean?"

"Very much so I'm afraid," Aldanon replied, with at least a passing attempt at gravity. He found himself unaccountably distracted though by Farkas who was making no effort to hide his interest in Ria's attempt at conversation, half turning to listen in. Aldanon was rather surprised he didn't fall flat on his face in the process, what little he'd seen of the man and his interactions with his fellows didn't speak well of his ability to multitask.

_'Sweet Dread Father, that man needs to trim his ears,'_ Aldanon's thinking process actually ground to a halt for half a second when that thought registered properly and he, discreetly mind you, took a closer look. _'Is that..._fur_ growing out of his ears?'_

A growing sense of irritation coming from the general area of his right elbow brought him back down to Mundus and he quickly realized that Ria was most likely expecting a little more out of him than a vague agreement.

"_So?_" She pressed. "What did it look like? What did it do? Was it powerful?"

"Well," Aldanon said with a quiet chuckle. "If I had to make a comparison I'd say it was larger than that farm house back there, scales dark enough you wouldn't be able to spot it on a cloudy night until it was right on top of you and burning red eyes, like a raging fire bearing down on you..."

Ria shuddered slightly as her imagination took that in and Aldanon gave himself a mental pat on the back and allowed his more manic half to savor the thrill of her discomfort before continuing.

"As for it's power...well I haven't seen the kind of destruction it wrought on Helgen in a very long time. With a no more than a roar it summoned a fiery storm of meteors down on the town and proceeded tear into the Legion company stationed there. They were probably at a bit more than full strength actually since General Tullius brought a force in escorting prisoners but it didn't seem to do them any good. Just gave the beast more victims to choose from really."

A brief silence followed his description, woefully inadequate as it was to convey the true scope of Alduin's unveiling but then again Aldanon was no bard by any means, broken by Aela ahead of them who had apparently dropped her conversation with Risi to listen in as well.

"Sounds like the makings of a Great Hunt," she said, a hint of excitement tinging her words.

Aldanon frowned minutely at that. "I very much doubt that it would. The only thing stained red if you tried 'hunting' it would be the ground with your blood."

Aela bristled at the perceived slight to her skills. "I'm not some soft-handed southern courtier girl that screams at the sight of a baby skeever."

"No, you're a battle-hardened warrior who doesn't know the first thing about the creature she wants to slay," Aldanon shot back. "I hit that thing with a spell with enough power behind it to leave the farm back there little more than a smoking crater but all I really did was level more of Helgen for it, never mind the fact that an entire Imperial garrison couldn't even faze it. Near as I could tell it had some kind of magical protection that kept it from being harmed either physically or magically."

A heavy silence settled over their little procession as they took in his words until Ria broke it, giving voice to the same question the others were silently asking themselves.

"Do all dragons have that kind of power?"

"Of course not," Aldanon replied, this time with ironclad certainty.

Alduin's invulnerability stemmed from his divinity, his ties to Mundus and Aetherius respectively, much like Aldanon drew on the power of the Shivering Isles even if it was only a fraction of what he could pull when he was physically in his home plane. Normal dragons, if you could really call several tons of intelligent, flying scales and muscle 'normal' with a straight face, had to rely on their natural defenses when dealing with threats.

Of course he couldn't just drop _that_ kind of information, at least the first half, without seeming to be insane, not that he wasn't but again appearances were an important thing to mortals, so he'd have to pass the source of his knowledge as something else.

Thankfully his background provided just the thing.

"The Blades, back before they served as the Emperor's agents and guardians, were actually dragon hunters. Very successful ones too if the records are to be believed. They very nearly wiped out all the dragons in Tamriel during the First Era which I very much doubt they could have managed if each dragon boasted that kind of power."

"Makes sense," Farkas grunted after a few moments of consideration.

Aela just huffed irritably but didn't refute his words, instead returning to her conversation with Risi. It didn't take long for Ria to strike up another conversation with Aldanon, this time peppering him with questions about the Blades and their history which he had little trouble answering considering he would technically be considered part of that history. Farkas turned his attention to their surroundings, not finding either discussion interesting.

The rest of the time before they reached Whiterun's gates passed peacefully enough, nothing attacked them at least which was a pleasant change of pace. Aldanon noted the well worn clearing just across from the city's stables and the old remains of a campfire, two or three days old if he had to hazard a guess.

_'Damn, I missed the caravan,'_ Aldanon thought a bit petulantly, though he'd maim the first person who called it that.

On second thought maybe not, he'd already done enough testing on his self regeneration and it'd be a right pain trying to explain it to his traveling companions.

"Hold there Companions," a gruff, authoritative voice rang out. "There's a couple more of you coming back than when you left. City's closed to those not on official business right now, you know that."

"Well I think news on a certain flying, scaly beast would rank up there in the category of 'official business'," Aldanon shot back, ignoring the annoyed look Aela sent him. "Don't you?"

The guard and his fellow both visibly recoiled at his words and although Aldanon couldn't see their faces he didn't really need his empathy to feel the disbelief rolling off them in waves, their stances shouted it loudly enough.

"Mighty unseemly to be joking about the rumors flying around like they are," one said with a bit of menace coloring his words. "Someone might think you're aiming to stir up a panic with words like that. Be a shame to have to lock you up for disturbing the peace."

_'I'll give him a four for effort,'_ Aldanon thought to himself as he, rather mockingly, raised an eyebrow in response. _'Course he loses points for not actually being able to _do _anything, and for the blatant denial. I mean really, people don't just _imagine _a dragon flying around the countryside burning things indiscriminately.'_

Before he could retort Risi stepped forward with a scowl on her face. "He is not _lying_ about the dragon," she hissed in annoyance. "We _both _saw the damned thing as it leveled Helgen, it's not just some skooma inspired vision or madman's flight of fancy."

Aldanon very nearly burst out laughing at the irony of her analogies but managed to throttle it down to a wry grin as the two guards actually took a step back in the face of Risi's ire. "Helgen's...Helgen's _gone_?"

"Can't say for sure about that, though not for lack of effort on it's part," Aldanon chipped in. "But the little lady isn't exaggerating much."

"The people of Riverwood asked us to speak to the Jarl about sending some troops to keep the village safe," Risi continued before either he or the guards could speak any further. "I trust that is official enough for you?"

It took the lead guard a moment to collect himself before he could work out a reply. "Yes...yes I agree. Get yourselves straight to Dragonsreach as soon as you're in, the Jarl should still seeing supplicants so you shouldn't have any trouble getting in to see him."

_'You obviously don't know my bloody luck then,'_ Aldanon groused silently as the city gates opened up to admit their small party into the city.

Somehow he found himself walking next to Aela and Risi, with Farkas and Ria slightly ahead of them, as they passed by the town smithy. A blond man dressed in full Legionnaire uniform, minus the silly leather helmet, arguing with a deeply tanned woman in a blacksmith's apron about a massive weapon order held his attention for a few seconds before Aela cleared her throat pointedly and drew his attention away from them.

"I said that I would get you into the city when we arrived and I meant it," she ground out, a bit of bite in her words.

"I know that and believe me I do appreciate it, but," here he shrugged. "I'm not really used to other people trying to help me. Usually it's the other way around and I'd much rather handle my own problems personally. It just lacks a certain...touch when someone else does it."

Risi snorted. "From what I saw of your 'certain touch' you'd have been battling the city guard in short order."

"Maybe," Aldanon replied with a gallic shrug. "Not my fault that no one ever seems to take me seriously, though I've never been able to figure out why."

"Some people just aren't all that bright," Risi said a little sarcastically.

"Indeed," Aldanon agreed in a sage-like voice, pointedly ignoring the double-edged insult.

"I believe this is where we part ways," Aela broke in, having had enough of being ignored.

During the course of their short conversation they'd moved through the lower part of the city and through a small marketplace up to a thoroughfare situated around a massive, but depressingly dead, white tree. A small man-made brook encircled it, fed from somewhere further up the hill and meandering off through a different part of the city.

Just to their left sat a small house with a small fenced off enclosure behind it with a single, shaggy cow just sitting there staring blankly at the nearby wall. Across from the house was a larger building that Aldanon recognized as a temple devoted to the Divine Kynareth, or Kyne as she was commonly called by the Nords of Skyrim.

Beyond the dead tree Dragonsreach, at least Aldanon assumed it was the Jarl's palace, loomed at the very top of the hill tall and majestic. Sharing the skyline just to it's right was a massive stone outcropping carved in the shape of a bird of some sort and to the right of _that_ and a little lower was a longhouse that looked for all the world like someone had dropped an upside-down ship over it's roof. That then would probably be Jorrvaskr, long standing home of the Companions.

"It was a pleasure fighting beside you and I stand by what I said earlier," Aela said, directing a friendly smile towards Risi. "I would be proud to count you as a Shield-Sister, you'd do well amongst the Companions."

A faint blush colored Risi's cheeks at the other woman's words. "I may just take you up on that in the future," she murmured as she watched Farkas and Ria climbing the stairs up to Jorrvaskr, a glint of...something in her eyes.

Aela's smile was...less than friendly when she turned to Aldanon but it was tempered with at least a modicum of respect. "I'd like to thank you for your aid as well. Ria would likely have been laid up for weeks from her injuries if you hadn't helped her and I very much doubt Risi would have survived the battle without your aid."

She paused for a moment to consider her words before continuing. "While I doubt you would fit in amongst the Companions as a Shield-Brother you are welcome to our hall. If you are even half the traveler you seem to be I'm certain you have some tales to share over a mug of mead or two."

"You're quite welcome," Aldanon replied with a lighthearted chuckle. "And like she said I may just take you up on that offer, nor would I mind sharing a few of my various misadventures some night."

Aela nodded coolly at his words and gave Risi one last parting smile before turning to follow her fellow Companions. Risi watched Aela go her emotions, and by likely association her thoughts, unaccountably dark as she mulled something over in her head. It certainly didn't help that she was somehow projecting those same emotions through his empathy and dragging him down with her, dredging up memories that he much preferred stay forgotten.

_'Right, enough of this moping,'_ he thought somewhat irritably. _'Time for a distraction.'_

"Well come along, Risi," he said, his tone more appropriate for dealing with a child than a young woman. "The sooner you get your chores out of the way the sooner you can go and play with your new friends."

Aldanon added an appropriately patronizing pat to the head for good measure. No way was she getting away with insulting him that easily no sir!

"Yes, _dad_," came her snide reply.

Then again perhaps maybe she would.

Still his little distraction paid off. Whatever dark thoughts that had been plaguing her were...not forgotten perhaps but at least pushed back for the time being. He, along with every other male in the general vicinity, watched her flounce off towards the stairs leading to Dragonsreach in a huff with a small, sad smile.

_'Poor girl,' _he mused. _'I hope that her own tale ends better than mine did all those years ago.'_

Still he'd been given a second chance, another attempt at having the ending _he _wanted rather than the one laid out for him and this time he had the power to ensure that it did.

_'And by Sithis, _nothing _is going to stand in my way,' _he vowed as he made his way to Dragonsreach and the first true step on the path of his new 'destiny'.

* * *

**A/N: Done and done! 10,122 (before Author's Notes) worth of story covering the trip from Riverwood to Whiterun. Was almost 12k but I deleted a couple of sections that could honestly wait until a later chapter to be used. Sorry for the wait and all but I kinda floundered a few times with the aftermath of the giant fight (both of those aforementioned deleted sections actually went there before I finally found an semi-appropriate way of moving the story along)**

**Um...I'd ramble on some more like I have for the last few chapters but I'm honestly drawing a blank so to hell with it. You all have waited 2 months and a few extra days so now that you've gotten through it, please review! Tell me if you spot anything wrong or have any questions, I'm willing to answer pretty much anything you ask as long as it doesn't ruin anything vital to the plot.**

**A/N Mk II: Came back to edit the chapter after I finished looking over the next and noticed that I'd changed the size of the Legion troops stationed at Helgen. A battalion, as it had been stated here originally, is somewhere around 500 troops, at least according to what I've read, and I'd stated that there was a battalion-and-a-half at Helgen at the time of Alduin's attack so close to 750 men...which is pretty close to 1/5th of the entire Legion, which numbers around 5,000 troops for those of you who didn't know. Instead of a battalion I replaced it with a company-and-a-half, 200-300 men or so if my source is even close to being right, which while being a heavy blow isn't nearly as crippling as it would have been before.**


	6. I'm A Professional

**Chapter 5**

**I'm A Professional**

The short trek from the second tier of the city towards Dragonsreach passed in companionable silence between Risi and Aldanon. At least it would have if it weren't for that annoying priest screaming out various accolades to Talos at the top of his lungs in front of said Divines' statue in the plaza below them.

_'Poor Talos, having _that_ representing him,'_ Aldanon mused _'I thought the crazies were supposed to worship _me_?'_

That wasn't entirely fair however seeing as the man wasn't actually insane. Devoted to his god? Indeed. Passionate about his cause? Sure. Louder than a Clannfear being set on fire? Definitely.

"We are but maggots, _writhing_ in the _filth_ of our own corruption!" Eloquent and inspiring with his words? Not even close.

The pair sighed in relief and shared an amused grin with each other as the man's words faded into indistinct noise behind them, lost to the winds that blew unimpeded across the hilltop as they crested the last set of stairs leading to Dragonsreach. Aldanon paused a moment to admire the massive palace before them, craning his neck to peer at its towering spire.

While it might lack the cosmopolitan charm of similar Cyrodilic structures that he himself generally found appealing Dragonsreach was _old_, dating back to the First Era though nowhere near this grand back then, and places like that held a power and charm all their own. In fact now that he was actually here he noticed the entire city radiated power, or at least the hill the city was built on did. Aldanon's gaze was drawn to the right and settled again on that giant hawk statue looming over a brightly burning forge, having spotted that feature as they climbed the last set of stairs to the palace.

_'The Skyforge,'_ Aldanon remembered after a moment. _'That's the focal point for all this power?'_

Sadly his studies into Skyrim lore and history hadn't revealed much about the site, like how old it really was or that it even contained the kind of power it seemed to. Aldanon knew that it predated the Companions, their founders having built Jorrvaskr here because of the Skyforge and the ancient Falmer's apparent aversion to it but that was the extent of his knowledge on the subject.

A gentle nudge to his side brought him out of the past and back into the present where Risi was watching him with quirked eyebrow.

"We can see the sights later," she said, a hint of inexplicable tension showing through her tone and aura. "We have business to attend to first."

Right seeing the Jarl, politically the most powerful man in the city and hold, and speaking to the man face to face. A daunting endeavor for those not used to rubbing shoulders with with the higher class. He'd felt much the same way the first time he'd met Count Goldwine of Kvatch years before the Crisis, though he'd been much younger and had the benefit of his parents acting as a kind of buffer then, and again when he'd confronted Chancellor Ocato near it's height.

A certain amount of righteous anger, fueled by nightmares of his home in Kvatch burning, had kept him from considering the consequences of exploding on the man in the middle of the Elder Council chambers in the White-Gold Tower when he refused to spare any men to aid Martin or Bruma in their time of need.

Ah, the arrogance of youth. How he missed it sometimes.

Right now Risi had neither family nor overwhelming emotions, other than nervousness, to fall back on. All she had was Aldanon himself and, depending on who you asked, that could be either a good or bad thing.

For his part Aldanon decided to be the former.

"Chin up, Risi," he said, tweaking said body part lightly. "The thing to remember is that it isn't the big boss, or Jarl in this case, that you usually have to worry about. Most people in that position generally have someone intimidating, like the Captain of the City Guard or a personal bodyguard, on hand to scare away petty sycophants and whining supplicants. Deal with them and it should be smooth sailing from there on, might even earn some points with the Jarl. A good thing especially if he needs outside help and you find yourself in need of a job."

Risi stared at him incredulously for a second before blurting out. "You've done this before?"

"Surprisingly often actually," he replied with a short laugh. "I traveled the length and breadth of Cyrodiil in my prime fighting bandits, monsters and daedra while doing odd jobs for just about anyone who looked at me cross-eyed it seemed sometimes. Now's not the time for my stories though, as you said we have a job to do. Just let me deal with anyone who tries to get in our way, I'll clear you a path straight to the Jarl."

"Must you make it sound like we have to fight our way to him?" Risi muttered as they made their way across the bridge.

"One can never be too sure when I'm involved," Aldanon shot back teasingly.

"Divines help me," she grumbled, getting a bit of mocking laughter by way of reply.

The massive doors opened easily, admitting the pair into the palace's equally massive main hall. The few guards standing at attention there paid them no mind as the pair walked toward the steps leading to the throne area.

The moment they reached the top of yet another set of stairs Aldanon's eyes settled on the man who could be nothing other than the Jarl. He was powerfully built as one would expect of most Nords with shoulder length blond hair, held back by a golden circlet, a modest beard and dressed in a finely tailored, sleeveless tunic that was certainly more functional than anything Aldanon had seen most nobility wear in his time.

The poor man seemed terribly bored right then, slumped haphazardly in his throne, listening to a balding Imperial prattle on about some inane goings on in the Hold with only half an ear. The Jarl's own gaze trailed lazily across his mostly empty hall and them before abruptly shifting back to the two strangers staring back at him.

He straightened slightly, though remained comfortably slouched all the same, his interest peaked as he first met Risi's serious visage and then Aldanon's own less-than-serious one. The Jarl wasn't the only one to take notice of them however. A red-headed Dunmer woman garbed in finely made leather armor standing at attention at the foot of the dais scowled at the sight of them and strode forward, drawing her sword as she circled the fire pit.

"Hold there," she barked. "What's the meaning of this interruption? The Jarl has important business to attend to and no time to listen the concerns of strangers."

_'Sometimes I hate being right,'_ Aldanon thought as he shot a look to Risi that clearly said "Let me handle this."

"You know," he said as he crossed his arms and stared her straight in the eyes. "You're being incredibly rude."

That seemed to set her back on her metaphorical heels. "What?"

"I said, you're being incredibly rude," Aldanon repeated very loudly and slowly, as though speaking to someone hard of hearing. "I mean really, do you make it a habit of drawing your sword on everyone you don't recognize?"

"Only the dangerous ones," came the sharp retort.

If he didn't find the situation so silly Aldanon might have taken that as a compliment but as it was he shrugged it off and continued. "You know who else does things like that? Bandits. I hate bandits, always so dirty and confrontational, used to kill them in Cyrodiil when they kept getting in my face all the time. You're halfway there as it is though you seem to know what soap is, thank the Divines for small favors, unlike most of them. Though now that I think about it I _have_ encountered some clean bandits before, though I use bandit in the loosest possible sense. More like thieves really, and being dirty wouldn't have helped those poor ladies lure their marks in."

"Don't suppose that's your game too is it?" Aldanon continued before anyone could get a word in edgewise, looking her over critically. "Nah, I suppose not. No real appeal and somehow I doubt you'd draw them in with your sparkling personality."

Every eye in the hall was fixed on Aldanon by the time his rambling diatribe had wound down. The poor Dunmer simply stood there slack-jawed as disbelief, anger and a small amount of embarrassment flashed across her face and emotions. Aldanon had to give the Jarl credit for being able to keep a straight face despite the mirth bubbling so close to the surface just begging to be released.

They held that tableau for a moment more before Risi shattered it. "We have news about Helgen and the dragon that attacked it yesterday."

_'Well _that_ certainly snagged their attention,'_ Aldanon thought as the Dunmer finally sheathed her sword, staring at them both questioningly.

"Well, that explains why the guards let you in," she said, apparently deciding to just ignore Aldanon's words for the time being. "Come along, the Jarl will want to speak to you personally."

A sharp elbow and a reproving glare from Risi garnered an unrepentant grin and shrug from Aldanon as they followed the other red-head around the fire pit to stand before the Jarl, who finally allowed a small smile to show after she bowed to him and turned to glare at Aldanon.

"So what do we have here then?" The Jarl mused aloud as he looked them over.

"Risi Soul-Fang of the Imperial City, Jarl Balgruuf," Risi replied with a small bow.

"Aldanon Pendragon," Aldanon introduced himself with a respectful nod. "Battlemage and professional adventurer, at your service."

Jarl Balgruuf raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his introduction and looked him over again, understandable considering he still didn't look the part of a proper battlemage, but refocused on Risi when Aldanon didn't continue.

"So," he began. "You two were at Helgen then? Saw this dragon everyone is whispering about with your own eyes?"

"Close enough to stare it right in the eyes as it tried to torch us like it did to Helgen," Aldanon confirmed.

You...you actually _fought_ it?" The balding Imperial gasped out.

"I didn't but he did," Risi clarified, looking a little embarrassed at the admission. "My hands were bound at the time and I didn't even have a weapon so I couldn't have fought it even if I wanted to."

"That's giving me a little more credit than I deserve I'm afraid," Aldanon cut in drawing attention away from Risi and her admission, he very much doubted she meant to let the last part slip and it wouldn't help her to reveal that she'd been brought to Helgen as a prisoner. "It had a powerful magical shield protecting it and I'm fairly certain all I really managed to do was make it angry."

Which was true of course, to an extent, and Aldanon's opinion of the Jarl jumped a notch when he chose to react, not with shock or panic or fear or any of the other myriad emotions one might expect from someone who'd just been told there was a powerful, magically protected dragon flying freely around their home, by leveling a sardonic gaze at the Imperial to his right.

"What do you say _now_, Proventus?" Jarl Balgruuf drawled. "Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?"

Proventus merely looked away, a slight scowl marring his features. Aldanon guessed this was an ongoing argument between the two men, the Jarl not satisfied that his city was safe enough with a war raging between his countrymen and the Empire and the boot-licking toady eager to assure him that _his_ home was the safest place in all the land.

"My lord," Risi said, taking a step forward before Proventus could reply. "Before I came here I was given shelter in Riverwood by Gerdur and her family. They asked me to come here and request that you send troops to help defend the village, in case the dragon returned."

"I agree, my lord," the Dunmer said, turning away from them to face the Jarl fully. "Riverwood is in the most immediate danger, especially if the dragon is still lurking in the mountains. We can dispatch a platoon to the village at once, without compromising the city itself."

"But the Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation!" Proventus blurted nervously. "He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him. We should not-"

"Enough!" Balgruuf barked, cutting the Imperial off. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!"

"Jarl Balgruuf, if I may..." Aldanon spoke up, drawing the Jarl's burning gaze to him.

Receiving a short gesture to continue, Aldanon did so. "If the same dragon that attacked Helgen does strike again, you could empty the city of every able-bodied warrior you have...and still lose. The Legion had a full company stationed at Helgen, and half of another escorting a fair number of Stormcloak prisoners, and they might as well have been attacking it with sticks and pebbles for all the good their numbers and fortifications did them."

Pausing for but a moment to consider a couple of options, Aldanon continued. "Your best bet would be to send a small squad of men who know the area around Riverwood well. That way they'd be able to lead the people to someplace safe, or at least out into the wilderness where they'd have more cover, and protect them from more mundane dangers until the dragon goes away."

Proventus looked like he couldn't believe they were actually having this discussion. Aldanon very much doubted he believed the rumors of Alduin, or any dragon for that matter, destroying Helgen in the first place, but the Jarl and his Dunmer bodyguard, at least that's what Aldanon assumed she was considering her lack of uniform and her protective stance throughout the discussion, shared a long look and a silent conversation before nodding.

"Yes, that does sound like an excellent plan," the Jarl said approvingly. "Though not without it's downsides. The only place that could be considered even remotely safe in a situation like that is old Embershard Mine and it has been in the hands of a group of bandits for the past month."

"Not anymore, my lord," Risi interjected. "A couple of them attacked us along the road to Riverwood. Ralof...he didn't like the thought of them being so close to Riverwood, seeing as it's relatively unguarded, so we tracked them back to the mine and wiped them out."

"Ralof? Gerdur's brother, the Stormcloak?" Risi blushed and fidgeted a bit at having let the name slip like that but any concern she may have had were dispelled by the Jarl's next words. "A good man and a true son of Skyrim, if a bit misguided."

"Irileth send a detachment to Riverwood at once," Balgruuf said, returning the the matter at hand. "Make sure that at least one of them know the area well," the last was said with a small nod to Aldanon, who returned the acknowledgment with one of his own.

"At once, my Jarl," Irileth replied with a salute, brushing past Aldanon to carry out her orders.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties," Proventus muttered sullenly.

"That would be best," the Jarl remarked dryly.

"I would like to thank you, both of you, for coming to me with this. I'm ashamed to admit it but in these times there are few that would do the right thing in your place," Balgruuf said with a sigh. "You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it."

He looked them over again, paying more attention to their physical characteristics this time, before continuing. "Before you leave I think a visit to the armory is in order, to get you outfitted in more appropriate gear."

"Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf," Risi murmured with a shallow bow.

"That's quite generous of you," Aldanon remarked. "Especially for simply passing along a message and confirming a rumor, no matter how dire."

The Jarl shot the hidden god a small smirk. "Indeed there is something more that you can do for me. Something suitable for people with your...particular set of skills, if you are agreeable."

He stood then, stretching slightly, and motioned for them to follow him. "Come, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's an avid scholar of dragons and the Dragon War and has been researching something lately that we may use to shed some light on our current situation."

They did not need to go that far at all to find Farengar it turned out. The man, a Nord swathed head to toe in blue robes, had a rather sizable lab just off the main hall containing a large, not to mention cluttered, desk, a large map of Skyrim pinned to a converted drawing board, a small round table containing all the necessities for a discerning alchemist and another, slightly larger, table next to it that Aldanon could only vaguely identify as an enchanting altar, if only because of the magical residue left over from spent soul gems hanging over it.

"Farengar!" Balgruuf hailed, said mage looking up from his desk to peer at his lord and guests. "I believe I've found some able hands to help you with your dragon project. Go ahead and give them the details."

"So the Jarl believes that you can be of some use to me then?" Like everyone else they'd encountered thus far, Farengar looked them over appraisingly. He however didn't seem to be all that impressed. "Yes, I suppose I could use someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

Risi had grown nervous when the Jarl had suddenly sprung his surprise task on them and Aldanon couldn't really blame her. Even with his prediction of just such a thing not even he had been expecting the man to toss something in their laps just like that. That nervousness had climbed steadily higher when they came face to face with the court mage and reached it's peak during his rather bored delivery of the particulars, as though he'd had to describe this same task to several others before them.

"Excuse me," she interrupted in a quiet voice, shooting a sidelong glance at the Jarl. "I appreciate your offer for what it is, my lord, but I...I think I would rather settle myself in somewhere before I begin trekking across the countryside."

"Quite understandable," the Jarl replied easily. "Come along then, we'll leave them to their business while we get you outfitted properly."

"Take care of yourself Risi," Aldanon told her with an encouraging smile.

Risi didn't reply but did return the smile faintly as the Jarl placed a hand on her shoulder to steer her out of the room. Aldanon shot the man a look leavened with just a hint of warning before he'd turned fully, the Jarl pausing for a moment to meet his stare evenly before nodding almost imperceptibly and leading the young woman away.

"Shame," Farengar snarked drolly, though he didn't look all that put out to be watching her leave. "I certainly hope you are made of sterner material."

"Quite," Aldanon retorted. "I used to do this for a living. You couldn't find an army that would keep me from any objective you give me."

No, really. They couldn't.

"If you don't mind me asking," Aldanon continued. "Why would the Jarl think that this tablet would have anything to do with the dragon problems you're having now?"

Farengar paused to consider the matter for a moment. "A good question actually. Dragon lore had always been a hobby of mine but never a serious concern until recently, when I was contacted by another party shortly after rumors began circulating about dragon sightings all across the holds. Many dismissed them as mere fantasies but I've always believed that one sure mark of a fool is dismiss anything that falls outside of his experience as being impossible."

"A wise philosophy," Aldanon complimented. "Especially for men like ourselves. One mistake, one errant glyph, and poof! Your back yard has suddenly become an Oblivion plane and you're having tea and sweetrolls with a Dremora Valkynaz."

Amusingly enough he'd done just that nearly a century ago in a fit of boredom. He'd been _trying_ to create a scrying portal in the Halcyon Conservatory to look in on Dagon's realm to see what kind of scheme's his old foe might be plotting and, ironically whilst assuring the Duchess of Mania at the time that everything was going to be fine, accidentally reversed one of the glyphs.

The result? About half of the Conservatory replaced by a rather unpleasant stretch of the Deadlands and him playing host to Valkynaz Anrath. A surprisingly well mannered and sophisticated fellow, at least by Dremora standards, Anrath still visited on occasion to raid the Palace pantry for sweetrolls and harass the Duchess who had yet to forgive him for the active lava vent he'd left in her garden.

That drew a short bark of laughter out of the mage. "Ah yes, the many dangers we intrepid men of magic face in our daily pursuits. You are a refreshing change from the usual brutes the Jarl typically sends my way, a thinker...perhaps even a scholar?"

"Only in dire need I'm afraid," Aldanon replied with a rueful shake of his head. "I've always preferred going out with a sword in one hand and a spell in the other, finding rare artifacts and the like rather than reading about them. Used to drive my big brother into fits the things I'd bring back without knowing what they were or how to handle them properly."

"Yes, somehow I can just imagine that," Farengar said with another laugh. "Well my own reading has led me to an ancient stone tablet, a Dragonstone, said to contain a map of dragon burial sites, that I _believe_ can be found in Bleak Falls Barrow, in the mountains just west of Riverwood. You _should _be able to find it interred in the main chamber. Find it and bring it back here, simplicity itself."

"Not now that you've said that it won't be," Aldanon muttered, not that he minded terribly.

"For the Jarl to be taking my work seriously at last, I think it's safe to say he considers it a priority now," Farengar remarked seriously. "Haste would be advisable."

Aldanon had already turned to leave by then and waved to show he'd heard. "Barring the Barrow collapsing on my head you'll have your Dragonstone bright and early tomorrow."

He hadn't taken no more than three steps outside of Farengar's quarters when one of the yellow clad guards stopped him. "Aldanon Pendragon?"

"Yes?" Aldanon replied with a nod.

"The Jarl ordered me to show you to the armory before you left, doesn't want you heading out under equipped," the guard informed him.

"Lead on then," Aldanon said. "I want to set out as soon as possible."

* * *

The wind howled over the mountainside, biting into the exposed flesh of Aldanon's arms and face and whipping up a blizzard of storm and ice. He'd been blessed with a hardy constitution though, and the willpower to simply ignore what might inconvenience him otherwise, as a mortal and now all it did was make it so that he had to shout to be heard.

"So! How many of your fellows are up at the ruins!" Aldanon asked casually.

Well as casually as one could while shouting anyways.

The two unfortunate bandits, a Redguard woman and a burly male Orc, held in the grasp of his telekinesis spell both looked down at the sixty-something foot drop to the rocks at the base of the ruined watchtower overlooking Riverwood behind him, where they had been camped out to watch the trail, then back to each other before frantically shouting denials and curses in equal measure.

Aldanon sighed dramatically and shook his head for added effect. It hadn't taken him long to find a suitable set of armor in the the Jarl's armory, a simple set of unenchanted steel armor with matching gauntlets and boots that would tide him over till he could commission a proper suit of ebony, and a short stop back to Farengar where he'd traded his map for one of a more practical nature after he recalled the one the court mage had pinned up. Thus properly equipped Aldanon had set out to see to his task.

It wasn't until he'd stepped outside of the Palace and focused that he realized he'd forgotten to place a Mark at Riverwood, the closest place to his current destination. Sure he had the one just south of it, at the the trio of standing stones, and the one just north at the Meadery but there was a fine line between being efficient and being lazy, growing fat and complacent.

That would be a sight to see, Sheogorath the Fat God of the Quivering Jowls! He'd be the laughing stock of the Princes, never mind if it _would_ be him leading in the laughter. It was the principal of the thing.

So after making the return trip in about half the time, and probably startling the poor patrolling guards out of their few collective wits as he blazed past them faster fully armored than he had before without, he'd encountered the first sign that things might be a little more interesting than a simple dungeon delve in the form of the now nearly blubbering pair of bandits and their compatriot, whose rapidly cooling corpse lay in a heap at the bottom of the stairs below them. The blizzard had made it ridiculously easy for him to catch them unawares without any real tricks, the nasty weather keeping them inside and huddled around their fire rather than watching for anyone crazy enough to be traveling in it.

Sadly for them he'd been crazy enough to do it back _before_ he became the living embodiment of Madness.

"Alright, that's quite enough!" Aldanon shouted finally, the sheer force behind it enough to silence them immediately. "Now I know that your lot isn't always so good with numbers, or other higher thought processes for that matter, but that doesn't mean I am! There were three of you here and yet I counted _four_ bedrolls on my way up and more supplies than even four people could carry stashed away. Which means you have more friends somewhere and the most likely place is just a little ways up the mountain!"

He paused for a moment to level a glare at them, making them squirm both physically and emotionally, before continuing. "Now I will ask you only twice more. How many more are there waiting up at the Barrow?"

"Malacath take you," the Orc snarled viciously. "I'll go to Oblivion before I tell _you_ anything!"

There was a glint in Aldanon's eye and a smirk on his face that neither bandit found any comfort in as he drew one hand back slowly and deliberately. The Orc in turn floated back over the ruined edge and around Aldanon, but not close enough for the bandit to lash out and hit him, until he came to a stop to Aldanon's left directly over the stairs.

"That could be arranged," Aldanon hissed. "But you don't look like you're worth the effort."

A snap of his fingers sent the Orc soaring down the stairs, limbs flailing wildly and a terrified shout erupting from his mouth. Quick as the lightning Aldanon loved his hand snapped out again and unleashed a spear of ice after the bandit, striking him in the chest just as he crashed heavily against the wall. The spear pierced through the Orc's iron breastplate like it was paper and into the wall behind, leaving his now twitching corpse impaled a couple of feet off the floor.

"And then there was one," Aldanon remarked idly as he turned back to the Redguard. "Can you count little bandit? I certainly hope so, for your sake, because I will only accept one more answer to my question."

Her eyes flicked frantically between him, her dead fellows and the ground below her several times. Fear rolled off her in waves, potent enough that he wasn't surprised he couldn't actually _smell_ it and no doubt monopolizing her thoughts. Aldanon let her stew for a few moments longer before heaving another, overly dramatic sigh and created another ice spear, leaving it floating threateningly just over his shoulder and pointed directly between the woman's eyes. The unspoken threat spurred her into pushing her fear aside.

"Wait, please!" She shouted at last. "If...if I tell you will you let me go?"

Aldanon made a show of considering it for a moment before letting the spear dissipate. "Speak quickly, I've never been known for my patience."

"Do you promise?" The bandit demanded, a hint of spine finally showing through. "If I tell you what you want to know, you'll let me go?"

"Very well," Aldanon replied, allowing a hint of his impatience show. "You have my word that I'll let you go as soon as you tell me what I want to know."

She stared at him intently for a moment before doing just that. "Eight, there are eight more up at the Barrow along with Arvel. Four guarding the entrance and the rest inside guarding him."

"Arvel?"

"Arvel the Swift," she hastened to answer. "The Dunmer that brought us all in on the job. Claims there's great treasures hidden deep within the Barrow. Had some of the boys break into a shop down in Riverwood to steal some golden claw thing he said was the key to everything."

Aldanon made a mental note to keep an eye out for this Arvel and his little claw. There was a good chance, assuming the elf was right, that he would need it to get to whatever inner chambers the Dragonstone was supposed to be in.

"That's all I know I swear," she continued frantically. "You said you'd let me go if I answered your questions...so I can go now right?"

"I certainly did say that, so you did and so you shall," Aldanon replied. "Fly free little birdie!"

He released the telekinesis spell before his words had a chance to truly register, sending the doomed bandit flying away from the tower. Her startled scream was lost to the raging winds and Aldanon quickly lost sight of her as the blizzard swallowed her up.

His business done Aldanon left the tower and continued trudging up the path as it wound it's way around the mountain. In the distance he could just barely make out the massive arches towering over the Barrow's entrance. A quick chameleon spell ensured that there was no chance, however unlikely considering the circumstances, that anybody would see him coming and a follow up detect life enchantment revealed that his informant _had_ been telling the truth as four auras sprang into being before him.

There was one just a little ways up and to his left, huddled against the base of the smallest arch furthest from the entrance to shelter himself from the wind and snow while still having a modestly clear view of the path leading to the Barrow. Unfortunately, for him anyways, the bandit lacked the means to detect Aldanon up until a flash of black metal cleaved him diagonally from hip to shoulder and by then it was far too late.

Near the center of the courtyard two more bandits sat huddled behind a massive stone block. Somehow they'd managed to get a small fire going and kept it going, shielding it from the wind with their bodies and trying to keep warm. As Aldanon moved around them one visibly steeled himself and half stood so he could peer over the block.

"All clear out there Mal?"

"Don't know why we're bothering with this," his companion grunted miserably. "No one in their right mind would be stupid enough to be out in this weather."

"And none of _us_ are stupid enough to argue with the boss about it," the first one replied. "Arvel may be a paranoid bastard but he hasn't steered us wrong yet. A little discomfort is a small price to pay if he keeps bringing in the gold."

He shielded his eyes as the wind kicked up some. "Hey, Malgrim! Did you fall into a snowbank or something? Is the path clear or not?"

His companion looked around suspiciously. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear wha-"

He never had a chance to complete his question as a whirling ball of razor sharp ice descended on them both, ripping the two to shreds and snuffing their pitiful fire.

_'There's something poetic about that,'_ Aldanon thought as he watched the last blotchy aura rush down from the entrance to investigate.

"What in Oblivion happened here?" She gasped as she came across the shredded mess that used to be her compatriots.

An armored hand clamped over her mouth and a black blade slid across her throat. "I did," Aldanon whispered in her ear as he let the gurgling bandit fall.

A practiced flick cleared the blood from Umbra as he made his way toward the entrance proper. He had to hand it to the ancient Nords they certainly knew how to make their work endure as the massive hinges barely groaned more than the more modern work of Dragonsreach.

The smell of cooking meat and wood smoke greeted him as soon as he stepped inside though even that more pleasant aroma could fully mask the scent of death and decay, the kind he generally associated with the undead and similar ilk, permeating the rest of the ruin. Two more bandits waited not thirty feet inside the ruin, their forms thrown into sharp relief by the brightly burning fire they were tending. Stepping as lightly as his armor allowed Aldanon walked up to the nearest pillar to listen in on the conversation they were having.

"What are we going to do now?" The woman asked. "Arvel was the one with the claw and the only one who had any idea what it was supposed to do in here and now that the spider's got him..."

The other grunted noncommittally. "If Harknir and Soling can't get to him we'll get the others and decide whether the fool and his promise of treasure is worth the effort."

"He hasn't steered us wrong yet," she replied, unknowingly echoing her dead fellow's sentiment from earlier. "We've made a considerable amount of gold since he took over."

"Yeah but those were _real_ jobs, raiding shipments and the like," the man shot back. "_This _is madness. A few skeever and a spider might be the least of our problems. Did your parents never warn you about defiling the resting places of our ancestors? The dead walk these halls and don't suffer the living disturbing their slumber."

"Legends and old wives tales told to children by their mothers to make them behave, that's what's had you so scared since Arvel told us his plan?" She scoffed. "Nobody has even seen a real draugr in centuries if not longer. I very much doubt there's anything worse than what we've already faced waiting for us."

"I agree," Aldanon remarked as he stepped out into the light. "I _abhor_ waiting."

He gave them a couple of seconds to digest that and think of an appropriate rebuttal. He was pleasantly surprised at the result.

"You picked a very bad day to get lost friend," the man, a Nord Aldanon noted, snarled as he drew his greatsword. "And if you heard any of that you'll know I haven't been having such a good week. So I'll give you two choices, you can start running so I can stab you in the back or stand where you are and I'll slit your belly like an old woman's purse!"

"Well I'll give you an eight for creativity, better than I usually hear from your kind, but while you certainly look competent enough to pose a challenge to a novice mercenary or a Legion recruit you and your friend hardly rate as a threat to someone like me," Aldanon informed him coldly. "So I shall make a third choice, one where I slaughter the both of you and move on to the last of your pathetic little band so that I can do what I came here to do."

They didn't miss the implications of his words and, with a wordless yell of defiance, the Nord charged Aldanon with his greatsword held high over his head to bring it crashing down with all the force he could muster.

He would have had better luck striking the mountain itself, seeing as the mountain couldn't strike back.

Aldanon didn't even flinch as he held Umbra just over his head to intercept the attack, absorbing the force behind the blow with ease. He lashed out with one booted foot to catch the bandit in the gut with more strength than any two or three normal mortals could hope to match, sending the Nord quite literally flying back over their fire to hit the wall heavily.

Aldanon sidestepped the woman's arrow with similar ease and closed on her with three quick strides. She reacted remarkably well all things considered, wisely dropping her bow to draw a melee weapon. Sadly a dagger provided little real defense against the longer blade Aldanon wielded, unless in a master's hands, and in short order he'd plunged the soul stealing sword into her chest. He slid smoothly around her, withdrawing his blade as he went, and spun a quick circuit cleanly decapitating her.

"Damn...you," the man groaned as he slowly rose to one knee, clutching at his ribs.

He looked up through pain blurred eyes as Aldanon stalked over to him, idly kicking him over so that he lay sprawled out on his back, and stabbed him straight through the heart.

"And then there were three," Aldanon muttered as he made his way deeper into the ruin. "And the spider of course. Can't forget about the spider."

The inside of the Barrow hadn't handled the Ages quite as well as it's exterior might suggest. He passed several collapsed hallways as he made his way deeper into the ruin and he was surprised many of the walls hadn't simply collapsed under their own weight in some places. In one section that had previously been a small chamber a massive root system had breached the wall and ceiling, nearly cutting the room in half. As Aldanon made his way around the minor obstruction he heard voices coming from just ahead down yet another set of stairs.

"We have to hurry," one voice panted. "Who knows where that thing is taking Arvel? He's the only one who even knows what we're looking for in this cursed place _and_ he's got the damned claw!"

"Quit being so dramatic," another replied calmly. "I doubt there's very many places large enough in these ruins for a Frostbite that size to store it's food, especially considering how much of it's collapsed over the years. Don't forget, they generally don't kill their prey immediately either so there's a good chance Arvel's still alive. If he isn't the claw will be on his corpse along with that silly journal he insisted on keeping. Bet he's got all the details for this job _and_ the next all written out in it, all we have to do is get our hands on it."

"Then what in Oblivion are we waiting for?" The first barked impatiently.

"No! Don't pull tha-"

The chamber ahead came into sight just as one of the men pulled a lever set right in the center. There was a metallic thunk as ancient machinery came to life for the first time in centuries. For half a second nothing seemed to happen until, with a hiss of displaced air, dozens of darts flew through the air dispensed by the menacing stone faces just above the portcullis gate and two stone pillars just in front of Aldanon and behind the unlucky bandits.

The impatient man caught the worst of the barrage from both sides, falling over backwards with close to a hundred small darts peppering him from head to toe, front and back. The darts were poisoned too seeing as he was dead before he hit the ground and the darts alone weren't large enough to hit anything vital. His smarter companion managed to dodge the worst of the frontal assault but was caught by surprise by the ones behind and still caught a couple. The poison it seemed wasn't fast acting in smaller doses, hence the sheer number of darts and the chamber-wide barrage, judging from the fact that while he went down he was still clinging to life.

"Gods damn you, Soling," Harknir, since that was the other name Aldanon overheard, muttered as he tried and failed to climb to his feet.

He looked up as Aldanon walked in. "That you, Bjorn?"

"Nope," Aldanon replied succinctly as he stepped over Soling's corpse to examine the lever and portcullis. He didn't pull it, traps like this generally had more than enough ammo stored away for successive mistakes on the part of adventurers or the like and he had little interest in being poisoned, no matter how ineffectual it would be. There was usually some kind of trick to disarming traps like these...

"Who are you?" Harknir slurred, barely coherent as the poison did it's work. "Where are the others?"

"I hate to be the one to tell you this but all your friends are dead," Aldanon said as he examined the three three-sided, rotating pillars with snake, hawk and fish symbols emblazoned on them but paused as something occurred to him. "Actually no, I rather enjoy it as a matter of fact. I killed your friends, would have killed you and that idiot if he hadn't gone and done the job for me and I'll be killing Arvel as soon as I get what I need out of him."

A weak gurgle was all the man could muster by way of reply as he finally succumbed to the poison and Aldanon paid him no more mind as he rotated the pillars so that the symbols on them matched the order of the ones above the portcullis, and the broken one on the ground, and pulled the lever. Again came the metallic thunk as the hidden mechanisms did their work and in short order the gate rose with a strained groan.

The long corridor Aldanon found just down the set of spiraling wooden stairs was positively covered with spider webs, proof positive that he was getting closer to at least one of his goals. A voice called out plaintively in the rather distinctive accent many Dunmer shared.

"Is...is anyone there? Harknir! Bjorn? Someone, anyone help me please!"

The webbing grew progressively thicker as Aldanon turned a corner to find the doorway completely blocked by a nearly opaque covering of spider webs. A couple of quick slashes from Umbra parted the obstruction and Aldanon stepped into what he assumed was the spider's lair, if the floor to ceiling webs were any indication.

"Oh thank the Divines!" Arvel cried from the other end of the room. "Please, you have to get me out of here! Before it comes back!"

The unlucky Dunmer was stuck several feet off the ground his head and shoulders the only part of his body visible. Aldanon glanced around but didn't see any sign of the creature responsible for the interior decorations so advanced upon Arvel.

It didn't occur to him until Arvel started screaming that perhaps he should have looked up.

"No! Not again, it's coming back! Help!"

Aldanon was well and truly shocked at the sheer size of the beast as it descended from a hole in the ceiling. When he'd heard the bandits talk about a spider grabbing their leader he'd envisioned something similar in size to the Spider Daedra he'd encountered during the Crisis. They'd been large and strong enough to carry off a fully grown and armored man, alive or dead, but this...

"Great, first the King Mudcrab then Aren's pet fish and now this," Aldanon muttered as it hit the ground.

Arvel must have been nothing more than a light snack for this thing, lacking in it's preferred meals of giants and mammoths. It stood nearly a foot taller than him and would undoubtedly tower over him if it decided to extend it's legs, all of which were twice as thick as his his own. Eight jet black eyes stared back into his own, seemingly sizing Aldanon up in much the same way he was doing right then. It raised it's front legs, hissing menacingly and Aldanon brought Umbra up to a guard position in response.

Then it reared back and spat a glob of webbing right at his face.

Still shocked somewhat by the sheer size of the beast before him Aldanon found himself caught completely flat-footed for the first time in what felt, and probably was, centuries. The mass of web struck him full on in the face, covering his eyes and mouth and filling his nose with the sticky material which might have been something of a problem if breathing had been a priority for him like most mortals.

Thankfully it didn't extend to his ears so the rushing sound, one his mind equated with a massive, hairy form flying through the air towards him, _didn't_ catch him nearly as off guard. He executed a flawlessly timed forward roll, an awkward feat to pull off in the heavy steel armor considering Ocheeva had taught him the maneuver in the much lighter uniform of the Dark Brotherhood. Aldanon could feel the spider as it soared over him and heard it crash into the far wall as he staggered clumsily to his feet.

With a muffled growl Aldanon ripped the webs from his face and eyed his foe as it righted itself from its failed leap attack with unbelievable dexterity for something it's size.

"Kill it! Kill the damned thing already!" Arvel shouted behind him.

_'That's the idea,'_ Aldanon thought as he grinned widely. "Relmnya is just going to _love_ dissecting you!"

It hissed loudly by way of reply and advanced, forelegs flailing wildly. Aldanon met it's charge with his own, deflecting the one leg and quickly lopping off the other while avoiding his more destructive magical abilities in favor of keeping it relatively intact.

Relmyna didn't appreciate others damaging her toys before she had a chance to play with them.

It let out a pained shriek and tried to retreat, and with his eyes clear this time Aldanon noted the way it tensed in preparation for another leap. Rather than give it the chance he dashed forward and stabbed one, two, three times, each digging deep into an eye and forcing it back yet again but it's avenues of escape came to a sudden halt as it hit the wall. An attempt to scuttle sideways and go around Aldanon lost it two more eyes and the other foreleg for it's trouble.

Aldanon continued to press it, hemming the giant spider in and keeping it from moving far or attacking until finally it raised itself up on it's hind legs, no doubt to try slamming its not inconsiderable weight down on him, just as Aldanon had anticipated.

With one final lunge he plunged Umbra deep into it's unprotected underbelly up to the hilt, holding it up with his inhuman strength as it thrashed wildly. Aldanon waited until its struggles grew less intense which didn't take all that long, apparently he'd struck something vital by chance, before withdrawing his blade and leaping back a safe distance allowing it to collapse with a dull thud. It twitched weakly and gave one last, faint hiss before going still.

"You! Over here!" Arvel called out to him unnecessarily.

Aldanon wiped his the blood off his blade and sheathed it as he turned his attention back to Arvel.

"You did it!" Arvel crowed jubilantly. "You killed it. Hurry, cut me down before anything else shows up."

"I doubt anything is going to wander willingly into that things lair so soon," Aldanon replied as he drew his steel dagger and looked over the mass of web holding the Dunmer in place. "I heard from a little birdie that you have a shiny golden claw that I need to get into the deeper part of the Barrow."

"Yes, the claw. I know how it works," the Dunmer babbled, Aldanon's words not quite registering over his overwhelming relief. "The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories. I know how they all fit together!"

"Help me down and I'll show you," Arvel continued pleadingly. "You won't _believe _the power the Nords have hidden here."

Aldanon merely hummed as he reached out and deftly began cutting away at the webbing around the Dunmer's belt.

"What in Arkay's name are you doing?" Arvel demanded, albeit hesitantly considering Aldanon held a blade rather close to some of his more sensitive areas.

"Just looting a corpse," Aldanon replied.

"Corpse?" Arvel echoed incredulously. "Have you gone daft man? Did the spider's venom rot your brain? Have you ever heard a corpse talk before?"

"More often than I like," Aldanon admitted as he cut one of Arvel's belt pouches free. "They're so very annoying too, walking around and talking when they should be dead. Had to deal with a few on my way in as a matter of fact, such a chore reminding them of their proper state."

Arvel paled, well as much as a Dunmer _could_ be pale, at the implication. "You...you're mad!"

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me corpse," Aldanon shot back with a bright grin as he examined a small leather bound book, Arvel's journal, before stuffing it into one of his own pouches and returning to search for the claw.

It took a few minutes of searching, what with Arvel's frantic attempts to free himself getting in the way, but eventually Aldanon found the golden claw. Arvel stilled, fear pouring off of him in waves and his red eyes fixed unblinkingly on Aldanon as he examined his pilfered prize, making note of the markings on the palm.

Like the journal before it the claw found a new home in another belt pouch and Aldanon snapped his fingers twice, causing Arvel to flinch violently as five swirling purple rifts appeared and deposited two Aureals and three Mazken, one of which was Nelrene once again. All five knelt subserviently before him.

"What is it you require of us, My Liege?" Nelrene murmured.

"Corpse detail again I'm afraid, Nelrene," Aldanon replied apologetically. "More raw materials for Relmyna, four inside the ruins and four more just outside, and a little something extra as well."

They followed his gaze to the giant spider carcass and gasped. "She will be overjoyed, My Liege," Nelrene said with a small shudder. "What about that one then?"

"I'm sure she will be," Aldanon replied. "And as for him well...he won't be in any usable shape soon enough."

"As you will, My Liege," Nelrene replied with a small bow before leading her fellows to backtrack through the ruins.

"What are you?" Arvel whispered fearfully when Aldanon turned back to him.

"Me?" Aldanon asked innocently. "I'm just a little mad, that's all."

Another snap of his fingers sent a burst of flame at the base of the webbing, setting it alight. The flames spread higher rather quickly as Arvel began screaming and thrashing in pain and terror, his inborn resistance to fire aiding him little considering he couldn't escape it's burning grasp.

_'Good thing I have something to read,'_ Aldanon mused as he pulled out Arvel's journal and began reading it as he waited. _'This might take a while.'_

* * *

**A/N: Done and done! I would like to thank **FirenIce15 **for updating Through the Portal and giving me the kick in the pants that I needed to finish this chapter. So far it looks like I'm holding rather steady at about a month between updates with maybe a couple of days leeway. Part of the reason for the delay, other than the fact that I'm an unmotivated slacker most days, was actually the first part before Aldanon left Whiterun. I hope the interactions didn't come across as awkward or forced, I tried to change things around without completely ruining the overall flow of the main quest but I admit I did have a little fun writing Farengar. I have to say that man is without a doubt saddled with the worst voice actor in the entire SERIES so far. They might as well have added in the sounds of the man flipping through the pages of his script while they were recording his wooden recitation. Guh! I decided to give him a little more life here and a bit more respect for Aldanon than he normally shows to the Dragonborn, if there's anyone who would recognize that Aldanon isn't someone to mess with I think it'd be another mage.**

**This chapter was actually supposed to be far longer, actually ending with the dragon battle outside Whiterun but then I got the urge to indulge, perhaps overly so, in some long overdue combat. Still that means I already have a small part of the next chapter started. What do you all think? I started wondering whilst writing some of this, is this graphic enough to be worth changing the rating? I very much doubt language is going to be the cause for any rating changes since I'm going to try and not deviate from appropriate curses for the setting and Aldanon is, as evidenced by Arvel's fate at the end, more than a little twisted. Arvel isn't going to be the last by a long shot who will meet a painful end. This chapter I used to showcase Aldanon's more murderous, unforgiving side that he'll occasionally bring to bear on his enemies and victims. I realize that it can be hard to root for someone like that at times but I hope to build a complex enough character that his positives at least balance the negatives without collapsing the whole thing on our heads entirely.**

**On a slightly different topic, I've been debating with myself lately about including either (or both) of the Skyrim DLC's into this story. Dawnguard is pretty much incompatible with this story, at least as far as I can tell. The villain and his goal aren't really...interesting enough I guess you could say that it warrants a god's interference. For all his power Harkon and his various minions would be nothing more than a speed bump for someone like Alduin as far as I'm concerned (and I was considering writing a separate story completely for the Dawnguard expansion sometime in the future, told from the standpoint of a vampire "hero" to break the general monotony surrounding stories involving that plotline) and none of the rewards are worth the effort of writing a few chapters for. Auriel's Bow? Considering Aldanon has rarely used a bow in his lifetime, only just barely ranking as an "Expert" in the skill thanks to his time in the Dark Brotherhood, and has far more versatile ranged spells at his disposal makes it trivial. Not even having Serana as an ally appeals to me, not when Aldanon will have Babette to fill the role of "Vampire Companion" so unless one of YOU can come up with an extremely compelling argument for it's inclusion Dawnguard might as well not exist as far as The Edge of Madness is concerned.**

***MIGHT INCLUDE MINOR SPOILERS TO SKYRIM: DRAGONBORN DLC***

**Dragonborn on the other hand...I very much _like_ what I've seen and read about it so far. Sadly I'm reduced to reading the wiki and a handful of "Let's Play" on YouTube for the time being seeing as my computer can't handle Skyrim, my Xbox died, the one friend with an Xbox refuses to buy it and it has yet to come out for the PS3 but what little I've seen and read has intrigued me to no end. Aldanon's association with Hermaeus Mora and said Prince's involvement in the overall plot of Dragonborn actually allows for a connection between the two ideas and I've been toying with the idea of an alliance of sorts between Aldanon and Miraak, after all what "good" god doesn't have a priest to spread their word? For those of you who have played through it btw, yes I do know that Miraak considers himself superior to most/all things up to and including Mora but considering you can stomp on him as a regular Dragonborn in the the end who's to say he couldn't be brought around by a sufficient show of force and skill by what amounts to the God of all Dragonborn (not the source of the blessing like Akatosh but rather the divine symbol of their potential might)? Please keep in mind this is just a half considered idea, I'm saving the real planning until I've either had the chance to play it or found a Let's Play that I can tolerate so any help or additional ideas in the meantime would be appreciated.**

**Lastly, I have a couple of things to say to a couple of my reviewers (a rather poor turnout for the last chapter, only 8 in total on the very first day and then nothing else for a month despite the nearly 1000 individual readers in that time) first of all to **"Reave the Damned"**: Glad you liked what I have so far and I do hope it continues to entertain you. If you should ever acquire a proper account then feel free to drop me a line, I'm always willing to talk story ideas with a fellow/prospective author even if I have a terrible track record of actually _working_ on said story.**

**To **yendarman**: I hope you weren't actually expecting me to answer your questions since you have your Private Messaging disabled which made me kind of sad. I really enjoy responding to my reviewers, have some really interesting discussions about lore and plot sometimes.**

**A/N Mk II: Finally got off my ass and edited the chapter properly. It'd been nearly 24 hours since the last time I'd slept and kinda rushed through my proofreading to get the chapter out and get some much needed sleep. Thanks to **PhantomX0990 **for pointing out the fact that I was using a lot of "it's" instead of "its"...I don't know why but for some reason I decided that "it's" was the possessive form for this chapter, I don't think I'd made that mistake nearly as often in the previous.**


	7. Shadows Deep and Shadows Wide

**Chapter 6**

**Shadows Deep and Shadows Wide**

Arvel's journal did indeed make for some interesting reading. The, late, Dunmer bandit had been a cut above the many others Aldanon had killed in his lifetime, of course being literate automatically elevated him above about ninety percent of them. All of his plans were meticulously laid out in the small leather bound book in cramped, narrow writing up until several weeks before this particular job.

The Bleak Falls job was quite a bit different from the others outlined therein. From the very start Arvel was working with little more than vague rumors, ancient legends and little else, a fact that he'd been smart enough to keep from his little band of cutthroats. He'd worried that they might actually mutiny as the second week passed with how little progress was being made and he knew he needed something special to get into the deeper portions of the ruins but no idea where it might be.

It was a stroke of unbelievable luck that he'd found the claw during one of his forays into Riverwood for some supplies, sitting completely unguarded in the little shop just down the road from the Barrow and he'd wasted no time in having some of his men break in and steal it.

_'My fingers are trembling,'_ Aldanon read the last entry silently as he waited for the fires to die down. _'The Golden Claw is finally in my hands and with it, the power of the ancient Nordic heroes. That fool Lucan Valerius had no idea that his favorite store decoration was actually the key to Bleak Falls Barrow. Now I just need to get to the Hall of Stories and unlock the door. The legend says there is a test that the Nords put in place to keep the unworthy away, but that "when you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands."'_

"How wonderfully vague," Aldanon muttered aloud as he snapped the book shut and tossed it aside, having no further use for it.

The flames, which had spread far beyond Arvel until the web covered walls and ceiling were ablaze, had by then died down enough that he could pass without singeing his gear so Aldanon stepped over Arvel's burnt husk and passed through the doorway he'd been hanging in.

There was a marked difference in the new area compared to the long hallways and empty rooms that had marked the first half to the Barrow. There were alcoves along both walls, many of them filled with skeletons though more than a few held dried, mummified remains wrapped in surprisingly well-preserved linen cloth.

_'I wonder if that's what these draugr creatures look like?'_ Aldanon mused as he paused to examine one. _'If that's the case this would be a necromancer's paradise. A body that can withstand the centuries like this would make a far tougher and more reliable minion than all but the freshest corpse yet have the longevity of a lich, if not their intelligence.'_

He shuddered to think what Mannimarco could have done with an army of such creatures at his beck and call in the old days. Zombies were dangerous enough, if only because it took either a tremendous amount of punishment or a prodigious amount of skill to put them down permanently, and the so-called "dread" zombies, the ones further enhanced by the sacrifice of souls, were even stronger and more durable not to mention their ability to stunt their victim's magicka regeneration.

_'I doubt it would have changed the overall outcome,'_ Aldanon decided after a few moments of consideration. _'But I don't doubt he would have been far bolder and the death toll much higher if he'd held that sort of advantage from the beginning.'_

It didn't take long after his impromptu introspection for Aldanon's usual dour prediction, that somewhere there was always some_thing_ that wanted him dead, to come to pass. He paused just outside a modest sized chamber as the smell of death grew noticeably stronger and the oily, unclean feeling he always felt around the undead grated across his senses like a rusty dagger.

With a sigh he reluctantly readied a fire spell and drew Umbra on the off chance they differed from zombies, and their vulnerability to fire, before stepping inside.

Almost immediately three desiccated corpses, garbed in ancient iron armor and wielding swords and axes of a similar age, slid out of their alcoves and advanced on him with a smooth gait very unlike any undead Aldanon had ever encountered, their glowing blue eyes fixed unwaveringly upon him.

Undeterred by their nature Aldanon unleashed a blazing fireball towards the one at the far side of the chamber that promptly exploded into a fiery blaze. The engulfed draugr flailed momentarily trying futilely to put the flames out, yet another strange quirk of these undead, before whatever power drove it succumbed to the fiery power eating away at its vessel.

To his slight surprise the two remaining draugr actually paused to take notice of its demise then split up to come at Aldanon from opposite sides, thus keeping him from hitting them both with the same spell and displaying a level of thought he certainly wasn't expecting. As the one closest swung it's blade at him it surprised him yet again...by speaking.

"Dir Volaan!"

_'Well that's new,'_ Aldanon thought as he parried the blow, which was stronger than what he'd expected but not by any significant margin.

"Aav Dilon," the other hissed as it brought its battleaxe down in an overhead strike.

Aldanon caught the haft of the axe before the blow could land and heaved mightily sending it staggering sideways into its companion, thus interrupting both attacks. Umbra flashed forward in a straight thrust, piercing through the back of one ancient skull and right through the face of the second one on the other side.

Both collapsed like puppets whose strings had been cut as soon as Aldanon withdrew his blade. He toed the one so it lay on its back and glanced between the two, noting that the glow had faded from the dried, empty eye sockets.

_'Note for the future,'_ Aldanon thought. _'Same weakness to fire as zombies with an additional weak point in the head.'_

That last was the more important bit of information seeing as he'd encountered more than a few zombies in his time that hadn't been impeded by the loss of a head in the least. Or any of their limbs for that matter, having once encountered one without either its head nor arms that never-the-less tried to club him to death with its rotting torso.

Took forever to get the stains off his armor.

He was so busy reminiscing and comparing these creatures to what he was used to Aldanon didn't see the pressure plate until he'd already stepped on it. The tortured squeal of metal heralded the massive spiked trap as it swung out from the wall to impale Aldanon on it's many sharp, pointy bits. He managed to just raise his hand in time to catch it, though one spike pierced straight through his hand in the process, and set his feet firmly to stop it mid swing.

Aldanon grit his teeth, mostly from the pain of having a spike _through_ his hand and partially from the strain of holding the mechanism at bay, but ignored the pain and pushed back against it. For several moments nothing seemed to happen but in short order the sound of snapping metal echoed through the chamber and all the force behind the trap dissipated.

With a quick yank Aldanon pulled the spike from his hand and pushed the grate so that it swung back to it's original position. He watched impassively as the bones in his hand popped back into place and the flesh flowed back together seamlessly, leaving no trace that he'd ever been wounded at all

"Sithis damned traps anyways," Aldanon grumbled as he stepped over the pressure plate. "I can't believe I _ever _found this kind of thing enjoyable."

Well to be fair it was the deadly, at least at one point, traps and endless horde of enemies out for his blood that tended to sour the experience for him. Aldanon certainly _did_ tend to enjoy the treasures he found.

Another chamber much like the last, complete with three more quickly dispatched draugr and a swinging blade trap, marked the end of the large open tunnels Aldanon had traversed thus far. A narrow, cramped and twisted hallway led further down into the ruins with an increasing number of draugr rising from their long rest to try and bar his way with about as much success as anything before them had ever achieved.

That is to say, absolutely none.

The narrow hallway widened in short order, the hewn stonework giving way to more natural cave walls with a small river flowing from somewhere deeper in the mountain through a metal gate with a pull chain nearby to raise it, guarded by an easily slaughtered draugr in a sarcophagus.

_'Something about this just seems...lazy,'_ Aldanon thought as he pulled the chain and found himself making his way through a regular cave. _'I mean sure it's nice when nature does some of the work for you but come on. At least have enough pride in your work to not leave sections completely untouched like this.'_

Two more draugr fell to his blade and spell work before Aldanon found himself back in the Barrow proper, an inner sanctum of sorts with more swinging blade traps and far more elaborate resting places for the draugr interred within.

The moment he crossed a narrow bridge above a grate-covered pit and opened another set of double doors Aldanon realized he was drawing near his goal as he entered a long rectangular room with several bas-relief carvings along the walls. All of them showed ancient Nords kneeling in worship of robed figures, some wielding staves or powerful magic, with what Aldanon assumed were dragons in flight in the background.

Either that or _really_ big moths.

At the far end of the room, or Hall of Stories as Arvel had called it, lay a stone door. It was rather elaborate, at least compared to the rest of the crumbling ruin, with intricate patterns carved into it's surface and three concentric rings arrayed around a circular protrusion with three oddly spaced holes.

Holes that a certain golden dragon claw would fit beautifully in.

"So this is the so-called 'test' then?" Aldanon wondered aloud as he pulled the claw out. "A simple puzzle lock? Not even a passing chance at dismemberment to be had, how disappointing."

He spent a few moments examining the door and the claw making note of the markings on the rings, a moth, owl and bear from top to bottom respectively, and the palm of the claw itself.

"'The solution is in the palm of your hands,' indeed," Aldanon snorted. "It will be an extremely odd day when my hands ever look like _that_, Dragonborn or not."

A couple of quick rotations of the rings and a turn of the claw/key activated whatever mechanisms operated the door and it slowly sunk down into the floor. Aldanon gazed at the claw for a moment as he waited for the door to fully open, trying to decide whether or not he should simply toss it, before stuffing it back in it's pouch.

_'It'll make a nice souvenir if nothing else,'_ Aldanon decided as he stepped through the doorway. _'I wonder if there are others? They'd make a nice conversation piece after everything's said and done.'_

A massive cavern greeted Aldanon on the other side of the doorway with just a hint of old Nord architecture present, a couple of columns to support the towering ceiling and a small bridge across another stream that led to a massive dais with an even taller, curved wall-like structure illuminated by a soft light from somewhere above.

The whole dais and everything on it radiated several different forms of powerful magic. Alteration primarily, likely spells to preserve the structure through the Ages, but there were faint traces of soul binding and necromantic spells present beneath that as well.

Aldanon could also clearly make out the same incomprehensible chanting he'd heard when he'd seen Ulfric at Helgen. This time however the chants were clearer, spoken with much more force behind them and seemed to be speaking to Aldanon directly from the wall itself.

And something, somewhere deep within Aldanon, was responding.

Aldanon was only peripherally aware of the writing etched into the wall, it may as well have been scratched there by a chicken for all that he could understand it, as his entire focus zeroed in on one particular marking that began to glow as he approached it. His vision tunneled when he drew close enough to touch it as swirling tendrils of energy arced out of it and into him, the chanting reaching a crescendo and then, just as quickly as the whole event began, it stopped and Aldanon _knew_ what that mark meant.

"Fus..." Aldanon murmured as he tried to regain his bearings. "Force?"

A heavy thud and high pitched shriek interrupted his moment of introspection, sending him stumbling as he whirled around in surprise to find the sarcophagus behind him open. An emaciated figure garbed in tattered vestments, much like one might expect to see on a priest perhaps, and wearing an elaborate metal mask floated several feet off the dais right behind him.

And clutched in one hand was a large stone tablet that couldn't be anything other than the Dragonstone.

"Oh joy," Aldanon remarked dryly as he drew Umbra. "A lich."

It responded by launching a fireball from the golden staff in its other hand. Aldanon sidestepped the attack, letting it explode harmlessly against the wall behind him. The heat washed against his back as Aldanon restrained himself from returning fire, and chuckling at the unintended pun, in kind seeing as he wasn't entirely sure the Dragonstone would be able to survive a chance hit from his own magic.

"The old fashioned way it is then," Aldanon said as he brandished Umbra at the lich. "Well come on then, let's see some of the fabled magics of Ages passed!"

It answered his challenge with another screech and a barrage of fireballs. Aldanon raised a ward to weather the assault and cast a resist fire spell just in time for the lich to switch up its tactics and fling one at the ground, going under his ward and exploding at his feet. It was mildly uncomfortable but not much more than standing next to the lava flows in Dagon's realm used to be.

"Getting bored now," Aldanon remarked warningly. "You wouldn't like me when I get bored."

And again came a fireball. Aldanon backhanded it irritably away with a carefully angled ward flat against the back of his hand and sighed irritably.

"Fine then, time for you to die," Aldanon told it. "Properly this time."

He lunged towards it, Umbra poised to skewer and ward ready for any further fireballs, but the lich didn't react, not until the last possible second. Instead of a fireball or some other spell it brought its staff blurring around and deflected his thrust, sending Umbra flying wide of its mark. It followed that up by smashing him in the face with the Dragonstone itself, sending Aldanon tumbling backwards, blood flowing from a gash in his forehead and into his eyes, to crash into the sarcophagus where he slumped to the floor dazed.

A rush of intense cold brought him back to his senses but when Aldanon tried to get back to his feet he found that he could barely move. Blinking the blood clear from his eyes Aldanon found himself greeted with the sight of his body covered from the neck down in a thick layer of frost and ice and the lich, sans staff, floating almost gloatingly just above him.

"Much better," Aldanon said approvingly as he flexed his hands carefully. His right, and by extension Umbra, were held fast but he could still move his left with a little effort. "A very clever trick. How about another?"

It shrieked at him and Aldanon was certain he detected a bit of anger though it might have just been his imagination seeing as his empathy didn't let him get a read on undead, not even the intelligent ones. Several clusters of ice spears, three in each cluster with a condensed ball of frost magic anchoring them in the center, formed in an arc over the lich's head.

"That's a neat one," Aldanon remarked admiringly as he subtly snapped his fingers. "How about I show you one of mine?"

With a slow, deliberate and overly-dramatic motion it brought one skeletal hand up and then scything down to point ominously at Aldanon. The spear clusters reared back momentarily before shooting forward with unerring accuracy, truthfully the only way the thing could miss at that range was if it was facing the other direction.

Exactly as Aldanon had hoped.

His body glimmered with powerful magic moments before the spells could strike and for one brief second every single spear disappeared entirely and in the next reappeared, this time shooting back at their caster.

Even caught by surprise the lich was still quick enough to turn slightly, shielding the Dragonstone with what little mass its ancient form still possessed. The arm holding the Dragonstone was sheared clean off letting the priceless artifact fall to the ground, crushing the mummified hand that held it, and several of the ice spears pierced straight through it or buried themselves deep into it's back. Aldanon was sure that the only thing keeping the lich upright at this point was its levitation magic.

Aldanon gathered his magicka and an aura of lightning surged into being around him, shattering the ice that held him prisoner with ease. He sheathed Umbra as he absently brushed the frost off of his armor, sizing up his foe as it wallowed pitifully in the air.

"Well it's been fun and all that," he told it, easily catching the lich by the wrist as it tried to surprise him by swinging around and launching another volley of ice spears at him. "But the time for play has passed and I have more pressing matters to attend to."

Aldanon dragged the struggling lich towards him and wrapped it in a crushing hug. It gave a pained shriek as he fed more magicka into his lightning cloak and held it in place as the energy coursed through its body. The necromantic magic driving the creature resisted for a few moments before slowly, inevitably succumbing to the destructive energies being channeled through its body and turning into dust in Aldanon's arms.

He reached down and grabbed the heavily enchanted mask it had been wearing and examined it closely before stuffing it into the larger satchel slung under his arm.

_'Definitely not going to wear _that_ to find out what it does,'_ Aldanon thought as he walked over and picked up the Dragonstone. _'Not until I can clean it properly at least.'_

Aldanon looked over his hard-won prize and found that it was actually an engraved map of Skyrim with dozens of markings scattered across the country. Turning it over he found more of the same strange and incomprehensible writing like what was on the wall nearby just lacking the chanting and glowing bits so, with a shrug, he carefully placed it in the same satchel as the mask.

"And now, time to make my exit," Aldanon mumbled as he looked around the cavern. Most ancient ruins he'd explored usually had an alternate exit of some sort, either a secret escape route or a looped path leading back to the entrance.

It didn't take him long to spot the one here, just a little further in and at the top of another set of stairs. Pulling the handle set in a pedestal caused a section of the wall to slowly lower revealing a short tunnel that led to an altar or memorial of some sort in a cave.

Aldanon breathed in deeply the moment he caught a whiff of fresh air. It was quite refreshing after the the musty, death-laden stench permeating the Barrows and was something he enjoyed immensely after many of his dungeon forays.

Upon exiting the cave Aldanon found himself on a high cliff over looking the northern shore of Lake Ilinalta. The moon was high in the sky but, judging by its position, it was only a little after midnight and Aldanon wasn't entirely certain what he wanted to do.

He could simply teleport back to Whiterun and hopefully get a room at the Bannered Mare, if it was still open, and wait until morning to head up to Dragonsreach but that was a rather boring prospect. Aldanon was almost tempted to trek to Riverwood again and drop in on Delphine, see how she'd react to him staying for the second time in as many days, but ultimately decided against it. No need to harass the woman just yet after all.

_'Camping'_ Aldanon decided after several minutes of consideration. _'I haven't gone on a proper camping trip in an Age.'_

As an added bonus he could spend his time out in the wilds productively. Perhaps examining the mask, after a thorough cleaning of course, or learning how to use his newly found Thu'um without disturbing the locals.

Or at least those he couldn't kill without feeling a little guilt.

His decision made, Aldanon stepped off the cliff and set out to find a proper campsite for the night.

* * *

Dawn in Whiterun found the city bustling with activity, children chasing each other through the streets, vendors hawking their merchandise in the Plains District, a group of Companions setting out on a job, Heimskr bombarding all and sundry with his unceasing sermons.

And a handful of panicking guards when Aldanon suddenly appeared right in front of Dragonsreach.

"Hold it right there!" One shouted as they scrambled to draw their swords. "Who are you?"

Aldanon merely raised an eyebrow at the blades pointed his way and replied calmly. "Aldanon Pendragon, battlemage and etcetera. Weren't you here when I left yesterday on Farengar's little Barrow expedition?"

"We were out on patrol yesterday, no where near the palace," another replied though they did sheath their weapons, which is what Aldanon had been aiming for when he mentioned Farengar.

Aldanon sighed and waved his hand dismissively. "Honestly I can't tell any of you apart. You all look and sound the same to me in that getup."

They all shared confused looks but one decided to take offense at his observation or casual dismissal, or both, of them.

"So you're Farengar's newest errand runner then?" Said guard asked snidely. "You certainly came running back quick. Did you get lost Breton?"

"Hardly," Aldanon scoffed. "I told him I'd get the stone to him bright and early today and, as soon as you lot get out of my way, I aim to deliver on that."

He held in an annoyed sigh when his statement was met with a outpouring of silent disbelief. He spared himself any further snide comments with a well-practiced glare he reserved for the most annoying of his courtiers, one that generally preceded a long stay in Xedilian if they continued to irk him.

Even lacking the rather fearsome reputation Aldanon enjoyed in the Isles, for now, the guards simply didn't have the nerve meet his stare and silently parted to let him pass.

_'What a lovely way to start the day,'_ Aldanon groused. _'Almost enough to make last night seem productive by comparison.'_

Aldanon's little camping trip the night before had not gone entirely as he'd hoped. He'd found a nice enough spot at the edge of the lake and thankfully nothing had been stupid enough to bother him.

However his attempts to use his new found knowledge of the Thu'um he'd gained in the Barrow, and the knowledge _was _still there burning deep down within him, had amounted to nothing. It didn't matter what he did, how much he focused on the Word or twisted his magicka or simply _shouted_ in frustration, Aldanon simply could not get the power to flow. He was missing something, some key component, and it irked him to no end.

Still, the night hadn't been a complete waste. After washing the mask off in the lake half a dozen times, and then a few more just for good measure, Aldanon had set about actually examining the mask that he'd taken from the lich. A standard examination had revealed several different enchantments on it though the magic involved was radically different from what he was used to, unsurprising considering the mask was likely several thousand years old at least, and therefore nearly unidentifiable through current magical means without the aid of an enchanting altar.

With great reluctance, it had after all been worn by a several thousand year old corpse until recently, Aldanon had slipped the mask on and, the moment he had it settled properly, was promptly overcome as several of his senses increased exponentially.

His nose suddenly registered a dozen different scents at once and, when he inhaled sharply in surprise, dozens more assaulted him sending him into a coughing fit. Aldanon's hearing fell under similar assault which was only exasperated by his fit, leaving him nearly deaf and greatly disoriented by the time he'd managed to reign in the mask's enchantments to a more reasonable level.

When his ears had finally stopped ringing he'd continued to test the mask to find that not only did it increase his hearing and sense of smell and that he could block out either or both enhancements at will, most likely to avoid the very same problems he'd just encountered, but it also sharpened his eyesight to similar levels though thankfully without the overwhelming drawbacks the other two effects seemed to engender.

All in all it was an impressive work of old magic, one that nearly rivaled the works of the Princes themselves in some respects. _'Though I have to wonder what use a mage-priest, even before they became a lich, would have for most of those enchantments,'_ Aldanon mused as he stepped into the palace.

Inside, Dragonsreach was blessedly quiet. The massive fire still crackled in the center of the hall and a couple of servants chatted as they swept the floors in the main entryway but the Jarl was not yet in attendance and thus, other than the aforementioned servants and a handful of guards, the hall was empty.

As Aldanon approached Farengar's quarters he heard the Nord mage speaking to someone.

"You see? The terminology is clearly First Era, or even earlier," he was saying. "I'm convinced that this is merely a copy of a much older text. Perhaps one dating to just after the Dragon War. If so, I could use it to cross-reference the names and locations with other, later texts."

"Good, I'm glad you're making progress," a very familiar female voice responded. "My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers."

Aldanon stopped dead in his tracks the moment he heard the woman's reply and a wide grin spread unchecked across his face.

_'Dear Delphine,'_ he thought gleefully. _'I just _knew_ you'd be interesting.'_

"Oh, have no fear," Farengar hurried to assure her. "The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest thanks to all the rumors flying around, so I'm now able to devote most of my time to this research."

"Time is running Farengar, don't forget," Delphine said chidingly. "This isn't some theoretical question or mere rumor anymore. Dragons _are_ coming back."

"Yes, yes. Don't worry," Farengar replied impatiently as Aldanon stepped through the doorway at last. "Although the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable..."

His musings tapered off at the end, his imagination most likely following that tangent for a moment before he shook it off to continue their discussion. "Now let me show you something else I've found...very intriguing I must say, I think your employers may be interested as well..."

_'And he's off,'_ Aldanon thought fondly, remembering some of his more scholarly friends in the past. It was damn hard to get them to stop once they got going about something they were passionate about.

A situation that Delphine was apparently well acquainted with. Farengar couldn't see her face, thanks to the deep hood she wore, but Aldanon had a clear view of her and instantly recognized the expression there. It was one he was certain he'd worn more than a few times before, when a colleague began a long winded dissertation on some topic or another. Sure the subject may be interesting but it was hard to muster the same kind of enthusiasm they harbored.

Her eyes scanned the desktop restlessly as she nodded or made a noise of agreement at the appropriate times but apparently couldn't find anything there to hold her interest or deflect Farengar onto a less important topic and inevitably her gaze wandered to the room itself and, by extension, Aldanon.

It took a supreme effort of willpower not to laugh outright, nor even smirk, at the way the poor woman went rigid in surprise or how wide her eyes became when she finally noticed him standing there in the doorway watching them. Other than the hood Delphine had taken no other precautions to disguising herself not that he could blame her really, there weren't really many people who would be able to recognize the owner of some backwater inn especially if they frequented places like Dragonsreach often.

All the more fun for him then that he was _exactly_ that type of person.

It took her but a moment to reign in her initial reaction and allow her posture to relax somewhat though she made no effort to hide the suspicious glare she shot at Aldanon. He raised an eyebrow and held her stare in a silent challenge, waiting to see how she would react.

"We seem to have a visitor."

Her words proved very effective at knocking Farengar off his current tangent and setting him on Aldanon. "Hmm? Oh, yes, the Jarl's protege! Back so soon too, did you encounter...difficulties at the Barrow? Nothing too detrimental I trust."

"No, no nothing of the sort," Aldanon assured the court mage, paying Delphine and her unrelenting stare no heed, as he reached into his satchel to grab Farengar's prize. "I promised you I'd have it back to you bright and early today and thus here it is. One ancient Dragonstone fresh from the dank, corpse infested ruin of Bleak Falls Barrow exactly as you ordered."

"Ah, the Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow," Farengar said, almost reverently, as he took the heavy tablet from Aldanon. "You are certainly a cut above the usual mercenary brutes the Jarl typically sends my way, much as I expected."

"So what's next on the agenda?" Aldanon asked as Farengar studied the Dragonstone intently.

"Well your work here is done, at least for the time being, and mine now begins," Farengar replied. "The work of the mind, a sadly undervalued quality in Skyrim."

"At least until someone unleashes some ancient horror upon the land," Aldanon quipped. "_Then _they come running for a solution."

"Ha! Another sad truth," Farengar agreed mirthfully before something occurred to him. "Oh yes, I'm sure my associate here will be rather pleased with the results of your handiwork as well. She discovered its location, by means she or her employers have so far declined to share with me."

"A...pleasure to meet you," Aldanon said as he held his hand out, all the while acting as though they'd never met before.

Delphine seethed for a moment, no doubt aware that he was playing with her, before stiffly clasping his hand.

"Likewise."

She let go as quickly as she could without seeming suspicious as Farengar continued speaking.

"Well it would seem that your information was correct after all," he said somewhat condescendingly. "And we have our friend here to thank for recovering it for us."

Delphine grimaced slightly but before she could respond another voice called out. "Farengar!"

They turned to find the Jarl's Dunmer bodyguard, Irileth, standing in the doorway. "Farengar, a word if you please."

Farengar frowned at the interruption but Irileth's tone forestalled any protests he might have made as he moved over to begin a quiet but heated conversation with the woman, leaving Aldanon and Delphine to stare each other down.

"So," Delphine said after a moment. "You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? What happened to teaching at the College?"

"I hadn't intended for this to happen," Aldanon replied quite truthfully. "I met another survivor from Helgen on the road here and they asked me along to help spread the word about the dragon attacks. Everything kind of escalated from there."

"It's an odd thing," Aldanon remarked. "A backwater innkeeper with knowledge about ancient ruins and what's in them at her fingertips, rubbing shoulders with the Jarl's court mage too."

"My employers-" Delphine began to say.

"Psh," Aldanon scoffed dismissively. "Employers my ass. If that sword at your waist still means what it used to then there aren't more than a handful of your 'employers' still alive today and no way the paranoid bastards would congregate in one province. Be too easy for their enemies to find them that way after all."

For the first time in either of their meetings Aldanon got to see a reaction that well and truly matched her emotional state as Delphine paled fearfully. One hand crept slowly towards the hilt of the Akaviri katana, the traditional weapon of the Blades, sheathed at her waist while the other gripped the spine of the heavy tome she and Farengar had been discussing earlier, likely in preparation to fling it at his face as a distraction.

Any further movements on Delphine's part ended when Aldanon flashed her a discreet hand sign, one used by covert Blades agents to identify one another on missions in the field. He wasn't even remotely worried about the fact that his knowledge of Blades protocols was nearly two centuries out of date.

"We didn't change our ways when Reman's line died out," Jauffre, the Grandmaster of the Blades during his time, had told him after Aldanon had convinced him, by way of Martin, into teaching him the signs. "We kept them when Talos' direct line died out and should, Talos forbid, the day come when the current line ends the Blades shall continue on as we always have."

Considering the current state of the Blades though, perhaps a _little_ change couldn't have hurt much.

"You..." Delphine breathed in shock but anything further she might have added was drowned out by Farengar's surprised shout behind them.

"A dragon!"

Both of them turned their attention to the pair by the door as Irileth tried to calm the excitable mage down. "Yes, Farengar, a dragon and it's been sighted out near the western watchtower. The Jarl is waiting for us upstairs with the messenger."

She frowned as she stared over Farengar's shoulder at Aldanon. "You should probably come along as well. We may need your experience as well."

"We shall have to continue at a later date," Delphine murmured to Aldanon. "Make to send me a copy when you've deciphered the Dragonstone, Farengar. I have to return to my superiors and deliver the news."

"Of course, of course," Farengar replied, waving a hand absently. "A dragon...how exciting! You say it was spotted near the western watchtower? What was it doing?"

"We aren't sure yet, the messenger wasn't in any state to tell us anything when he arrived," Irileth replied. "You should take this more seriously. If a dragon were to attack Whiterun I don't know if we have the manpower to stop it."

The thought seemed to sober Farengar up some and the three made their way upstairs in silence. On the second floor they found Jarl Balgruuf and one of the city's yellow-garbed guardsmen leaning over a large map of Skyrim on a table there.

"You've done good work, son," the Jarl was saying. "Ah, Irileth! You've brought Farengar...and Pendragon? You're back so quickly? Good, we could use all the help we can get right now."

"If I _can_ help, then you'll have it," Aldanon replied.

"Good, good. Now tell them what you just told me," Balgruuf ordered the guardsman. "About the dragon."

"Right, my lord," the man said. "We saw it coming from the south. It was fast...faster than anything I've ever seen."

Aldanon was only vaguely aware of Irileth asking the man a question as his attention was no longer focused on the meeting. His senses stretched out over the miles, searching for any sign of Alduin, but beyond the standing stones, the Gate to the south-east and the thrum of the Skyforge's power beneath his feet nothing else registered.

_'So Alduin has his lackeys doing the terrorizing now,'_ Aldanon thought. _'Guess I made quite the impression.'_

"I see," Irileth was saying when Aldanon tuned back into the proceedings. "We'll take it from here. Head down to the barracks and round up some of the men, then get yourself some food and rest. You've earned it."

"At once, housecarl," the guard replied, bowing to the Jarl as he moved to follow his orders.

Balgruuf was silent for several moments before he turned to Aldanon. "There's little time to stand on ceremony, so I must ask you to tell me truly. Can we defeat this thing?"

"Assuming it isn't the black dragon that attacked Helgen, and I'm almost certain that it isn't, then yes," Aldanon replied. "We certainly can."

"How can you be so certain?" Irileth asked incredulously.

"Well the fact that your man actually survived long enough to make it to the city and warn us is a good indication," Aldanon shot back. "One of the things I'm really good at is getting...impressions from people, places, and now dragons apparently, and what I got from the one at Helgen didn't present a picture of restraint and mercy."

"And if you're wrong?" Farengar asked.

_'Not likely,'_ Aldanon thought derisively, though he only shrugged before replying. "If I am wrong then it's a good thing I'm going with you. I'm probably one of the few things in Skyrim capable of running it off."

It was an arrogant thing to say aloud certainly but it didn't change the fact that it was the truth either, regardless of the skeptical look Irileth was shooting him. Aldanon might not be able to actually hurt Alduin but he was willing to bet he had staying power necessary to hold the dragon god off till he got bored and looked elsewhere to practice his destructive habits.

Unstoppable force meets immovable object and all that.

The Jarl sighed resignedly. "I am reluctant to admit that I was going to ask you to help us once again so soon after, I'm assuming, you returned with Farengar's artifact?"

Receiving a nod of confirmation Balgruuf continued. "But you were there at Helgen. You faced one of these creatures and lived to tell us about it. If-"

"When," Aldanon said firmly, earning a small smile from the Jarl.

"Very well, _when_ you return we shall have to speak about a suitable reward for your services. I think it's safe to say that property rights are the least we can offer you."

"Perhaps I should come along as well," Farengar interjected as Irileth and Aldanon began to leave. "I would very much like to see this dragon."

"No, I can't chance losing the both of you," Balgruuf replied quickly. "I need you here working on ways to defend the city from these dragons."

"As you command," Farengar said, a bit glumly.

"One last thing, Irileth," the Jarl called out, halting them as they began descending the stairs. "This is not a death or glory mission. I need to know what we're dealing with. Your success could very well decide the fate of Whiterun."

"Don't worry, my lord," Irileth replied with a wry smile. "I'm the very soul of caution."

"I envy you this chance to see a dragon up close!" Farengar grumbled as they all made their way down to the main hall.

"I doubt you'd envy us much out there where the beast is trying to kill us," Irileth snapped. "It is one thing to read a book about a creature or study its remains, it is another entirely to face one in a life or death struggle."

"She's right, my friend," Aldanon proclaimed, clapping the mage lightly on the shoulder. "Maybe sometime in the future you'll get your chance to meet a dragon face to face but for now we have larger concerns."

"I suppose," Farengar agreed with a sigh. "You'll tell me all about it afterwards won't you?"

"Every bloody detail," Aldanon reassured the man.

"You certainly seem to know how to handle him," Irileth remarked with grudging curiosity as Farengar left them for the safety of his study.

"Comes from experience," Aldanon replied. "Used to have a few friends like that, letting their work get the better of their common sense."

"Oh? What happened to them?"

"Their work got the better of them," Aldanon remarked softly before motioning her towards the door. "Lead on, we shouldn't keep our scaly adversary waiting lest it get impatient and actually attack the city."

* * *

"No signs of the dragon," Irileth said as she peered over the rocks they were using for cover. "But is sure looks like he's been here."

"Certainly looks bad enough, doesn't it?" Aldanon agreed as he surveyed the destruction.

It had taken them the better part of an hour to muster the small squad of guards, making sure they were properly equipped for the coming battle and psyching them up to actually face a dragon with a rousing speech courtesy of Irileth, and make their way out to the watchtower.

And had arrived to a scene of total destruction. Now Aldanon doubted that the ramshackle state of the place was entirely the doing of the dragon alone, much of the fallen down sections certainly looked scars of past battles and age, but the raging fires here and there were definitely recent additions.

"I know," Irileth replied with a grimace. "But we've got to figured out exactly what happened and determine whether or not the dragon is still lurking about."

She drew her sword and turned to the men. "Spread out and search for survivors. With any luck we'll be able to find out what we're dealing with."

"Try to keep something at your back at all times and one eye on the sky if you can." Aldanon added.

The guards murmured their acknowledgments as they drew their own weapons, following after Irileth and Aldanon as they sprinted across the short distance separating them from the watchtower. Aldanon and Irileth passed by several corpses, some burned or crushed beyond recognition, but paid them no heed as they made directly for the tower on the shared assumption that if anyone survived they would have hid there.

They were right too. As soon as they reached the bottom of the crumbling ramp one man, missing his helmet and half his armor blacked and burned, came stumbling out of it only to collapse and fall at their feet.

"No! Go back!" He gasped as Irileth tried to help him to his feet. "It's still out there somewhere! It just snatched up Hroki and Tor when they tried to make a run for it!"

"Pull yourself together," Irileth snapped at him. "Where did it go?"

A distant roar from the south answered her.

"Kynareth save us," the man whimpered. "Here it comes again."

Aldanon could just see it, clearing one of the peaks of the mountain range. "It's coming back, from the south!" He shouted to the others.

"Get that man back inside, he won't be much use to us," Aldanon ordered Irileth. "Then get your ass back out here."

He thanked the Dread Father that she was a practical woman, merely nodding and hauling the poor man away rather than arguing with him.

"Stick to your cover!" Aldanon shouted as it drew nearer. "Aim for its wings and knock the bastard right out of the sky!"

It roared yet again as it came within striking distance and Aldanon responded with a bolt of lightning. He grimaced when the dragon simply swerved to the side and dodged both the lightning and the hail of arrows that followed it, strafing one of the ruined walls and bathing it in fire though thankfully missing any of its targets.

"Something that big should not be that agile," Irileth complained after several minutes of frantic combat.

Aldanon grunted in agreement as it dodged his magic yet again. Its ability to sense magic must have been nearly on par with his own for as soon as he'd unleash a bolt or ice spear it would swerve unerringly out of the attacks path. The others hadn't really done much in the way of damage either. The guards simply weren't trained to hit targets moving at the speeds the dragon could attain and Irileth suffered from the same setback he did.

As a plus though they'd managed to avoid any serious injuries or deaths thus far. The dragon had begun targeting Aldanon and Irileth almost from the moment it realized that they were the ones flinging magic at it but Aldanon's wards, which had been more than enough to hold back Alduin's fury, and Irileth's natural resistance to fire kept them safe enough.

"If the damn thing would just land we could hit it," Irileth hissed as it strafed them to little effect yet again.

"And that's exactly why it hasn't," Aldanon shot back. "Dragons aren't mindless creatures destroying things on instinct. Legends tell that they're more intelligent than most mortals and I doubt this one is any different."

"Well then what chance do we have?" Irileth snapped at him.

"I said 'most mortals'," Aldanon replied confidently. _'Which I most certainly am not.'_

He tracked the dragons flight path and unleashed yet another bolt of lightning, not really expecting it to actually hit its mark but forcing it to abort its own attempt at roasting some of their men as it dodged.

"We need something that it can't dodge so easily," Aldanon mused aloud as he scanned the battlefield for inspiration. "Something bigger and more destructive than arrows but less obvious than direct magical attacks..."

A manic grin spread across his face when an idea suddenly struck and he turned, yelling to Irileth over his shoulder as dashed off to implement it.

"Keep it busy!"

* * *

"What!" Irileth shouted after him as he ran around the tower. "What else are we supposed to do, throw rocks at it?"

She grit her teeth when giddy laughter was her only response. The man may have been powerful, even she couldn't deny that after seeing him hold a ward up almost continuously since the battle began while casting all manner of other spells, but he was obviously insane.

Irileth turned back to the battle to rally her men for a tactical retreat. Not back to the city of course, no reason to give the beast any further incentive to attack than it already had, but further west towards Fort Greymoor a couple miles down the road.

_'I just hope Agnis can keep her _guests_ from trying to kill us on si-' _Irileth's thoughts ground to a halt when she spotted the dragon once again.

Two of her men, having grown frustrated with their lack of success thus far, had abandoned the relative safety of the scattered rubble they'd been using to shield themselves from the dragon fire to climb the broken wall and gain a better vantage point.

It would have been a wise tactical move in any normal situation but this was anything but a normal battle. The dragon, taking advantage of the fact that the mad Breton had apparently quit the field, swooped in and, in a move that should have been impossible for something of its size, came to a stop directly over them flapping its wings to keep aloft.

It inhaled mightily in preparation to unleash its fiery breath attack on the two unfortunate souls and for the first time since the battle began, Irileth actually heard it speak.

"Yol...Tor Sh-"

A sudden rush of air above her, a sound she'd come to associate with the massive form of the dragon flying through the air, caused her to look up in trepidation, fully expecting to see another dragon swooping in to devour her.

Instead she was greeted by the sight of a massive hunk of rock, one of the chunks that had once made up the watchtower's outer defenses, soaring in an impressive arc directly at the dragon. It noticed the projectile almost exactly the same moment she did but by then it was too late and the boulder, that probably weighed as much as three or four of her men combined, caught it directly in the chest sending it flying backwards to crash into the ground on the far side of the road.

Irileth felt a shiver crawl up her spine when what she could only call a mad cackle wound its way into her ears. She turned slowly and felt her jaw drop in utter shock at the sight that greeted her.

Aldanon was standing there in the open with the widest, most insane grin she could ever remember seeing on a person. That wasn't what she found shocking however. No, what had her jaw trying to separate itself from the rest of her head were the five or six boulders, each as big or bigger than the one that had taken out the dragon, floating in the air above him.

She was a fairly accomplished magic user in her own right, perhaps not to the extent that Farengar or even Danica Pure-Spring were but skilled enough to hold her own in a magical battle, and everything she knew about magic was telling her that what she was seeing before her was completely and utterly impossible.

"How about that, you scaly bastard!" Aldanon cackled again. "Well come on, let's see you dodge more of _these_!"

Irileth barely even flinched when the dragon roared angrily in response as it took to the air sluggishly, obviously injured. Her eyes, and those of every living thing on the field or in the air, were fixed firmly upon the still cackling battlemage.

* * *

_'Well _that _certainly got its attention!' _Aldanon thought triumphantly.

He flung another boulder at the dragon, testing its reflexes to determine just how badly he'd hurt it, and watched with a critical eye as it just barely managed to duck under his improvised projectile. Its evasive maneuvers quickly brought it around to face Aldanon and, as it bore down upon him, the dragon opened its maw to unleash its fiery Thu'um upon him once again.

"Yol...Tor Shul!"

Aldanon clapped his hands together sharply. The boulders, all held aloft and guided by his telekinesis spell, came together with a jarring crash to form a barricade of solid rock between him and the flames. As the dragon soared over him Aldanon spun on his heel and gestured languidly, sending one of the now scalding hot hunks of rock after it.

The boulder scraped painfully, if the dragon's ensuing roar was any indication, along its side and grazed the joint where its right wing met its body, leaving a scorched trail along the leathery skin of the wing itself.

It banked hard to the right as the boulder flew past, attempting to use the tower as a shield against any further attacks and to hide its movements. Unfortunately, for it at least, Aldanon could sense its magical signature just as easily as it could his own and was ready for it when it came around the far side. The moment it soared back into his sights Aldanon thrust both hands out, sending all of his remaining boulders directly at it.

At that range and as fast as the dragon was flying there should have been no way he could miss and yet, impossibly so, he did. The dragon tucked its wings in close to its body, curled its tail up in a rather awkward looking manner and then simply _moved_ left, looking for all the world like someone had stuffed it into a barrel and rolled it out of the way, allowing the barrage to pass harmlessly by.

It righted itself quickly, wings snapping back out to their full and intimidating width and tail back to its proper position, just in time to catch a boulder to the side of the head.

That last hit was too much it seemed for the beast as it nosedived sharply, impacting the ground and digging an impressive trench as it skidded along a fair distance.

The whole world seemed to hold its breath for several seconds before excited cheers and jubilant shouts rang through the air as the guards celebrated the dragon's death. A celebration that was cut woefully short when it suddenly rose up to its feet and spoke, this time in a mixture of its own language and the common tongue.

"Brit grah," it rumbled as it turned to face them. "I had forgotten what wonderful sport you mortals can provide!"

"Well get your scaly ass over here and see how much more _sporting_ we can be when you're on our level!" Aldanon challenged, drawing Umbra with an impressive flourish.

"You are very brave," the dragon replied as it scrutinized him closely. "Aan balaan hokoron. Your death shall bring me great honor."

"You're welcome to try, just like everything else before you!" Aldanon retorted as the dragon began stomping towards them.

"Attack you worthless milk drinkers!" Irileth shouted, snapping the guards out of their terrified daze. "It's down, now let's finish it off!"

She let out a war cry as she charged the dragon just behind Aldanon. Half of the guards dropped their bows and drew swords, shields and hammers, following after their Jarl's housecarl while the remainder scrambled for higher ground to unleash a barrage of arrows.

"Yol...Tor Shul!"

Aldanon raised a ward to block the stream of fire without even breaking stride as he continued his charge. The flames parted suddenly as the dragon's tooth filled maw shot forward to snap shut with a sound like a massive steel trap in the place where Aldanon had been standing a second before. Aldanon swung Umbra in a mighty arc as he dodged that cut deep into the flesh along the dragon's face, where the scales were weakened by the earlier boulder strike.

The dragon roared in agony and swung its head violently in response, slamming into Aldanon with great force and sending him tumbling head over heels. Irileth took advantage of the opening presented and began hacking furiously at its neck and unleashing a steady steam of lightning to weaken the scales there.

It responded in much the same way as it had with Aldanon but Irileth was prepared for its reaction and rolled under its scaly neck as the head swung around and renewed her assault on the other side. By that time the guards had caught up and began their own assault, moving to flank the dragon and avoid its head.

They hacked away viciously at anything they could reach as it thrashed about in retaliation, whipping its tail and flailing its wings to fling them away but doing little real damage otherwise. On the ground the dragon lacked the maneuverability that it enjoyed in the air and couldn't turn quick enough to catch the mortals with its most potent weapons.

Irileth had moved further down its body and was busy carving long gashes in the dragon's wing when one of the others landed a truly devastating blow with his warhammer on the opposite wing where the dragon's "hand" was located and the sharp crack of breaking bone echoed across the plains.

A truly enraged roar followed as the dragon reared up on its hind legs, wings sweeping out and knocking away many of its attackers. A powerful bolt of lightning crashed against the spot where the first boulder had struck, sending scales flying and leaving scorched flesh in its wake.

The dragon turned quickly to meet Aldanon's renewed charge and fell forward again, jaws opened wide.

"Yol...Tor Shul!"

The flames engulfed Aldanon, who hadn't had time to erect a ward like he had before. The fire raged relentlessly until Aldanon suddenly emerged from the stream with a mighty leap, his armor smoking and body glowing with the most powerful resist fire spell he knew. He landed heavily on the dragon's snout and managed to keep his footing as he brought it crashing to the ground.

"End of the line for you," Aldanon snarled.

He drew back and then thrust Umbra deep into the dragon's eye and, hopefully, into its brain. It convulsed wildly, either in an attempt to throw him off or death throes, but Aldanon stubbornly held fast to Umbra's hilt.

As its struggles began to lessen the dragon spoke again in its unintelligible language. "Thurri du hin sille ko Sovngarde..."

Aldanon waited a moment more before yanking Umbra free and leaping back to the ground. As he sheathed the cursed blade the dragon spoke one last time, awe and fear tinting its voice.

"Dovahkiin? No!"

Aldanon, recognizing the dragon word for Dragonborn, turned just in time to witness the dragon's body begin to disintegrate before their very eyes.

"Everyone, get back!" Irileth shouted but Aldanon paid her no mind as he watched.

Scales peeled off and floated away like leaves in autumn before burning up and the flesh beneath seemed to melt from the inside out. Power burst out of the rapidly deteriorating corpse and rushed into Aldanon in arcs of energy similar to when he'd absorbed knowledge of the Thu'um from the wall back in Bleak Falls Barrow.

As the last of the dragon's body burned away, leaving just its massive skeleton behind, the last streams of energy flowed into Aldanon and he was overcome by a rush of sensations and information so potent that he very nearly collapsed from overload.

While Aldanon was trying to sort through his new found knowledge the others were cautiously gathering around him.

"I can't believe it," one guard muttered. "Can he really be...Dragonborn?"

"Do you have any idea what you're saying?" Another asked incredulously. "There hasn't been a Dragonborn in centuries."

"You know the old tales as well as I do," the first one snapped back. "Back when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay them and steal their power and that is exactly what he did isn't it, absorbed the dragon's power after he killed it?"

"Mirmulnir," Aldanon muttered suddenly.

They all took a cautious step back when he spoke for fear that he might unleash his Thu'um, as the old tales say he could, but when nothing obvious happened one of the braver guards spoke up.

"What was that he said?" The man asked cautiously.

"The dragon," Aldanon elaborated. "His name was Mirmulnir. I think you might be right, though I absorbed a little more than just his power it seems."

And it was true. There was more than just power transferred there, though he could feel the new energy thrumming deep within his very soul it seemed, but memories and experiences as well. Considering the fact that Mirmulnir was apparently one of the few dragons had survived the Blades great purge of dragonkind and stayed in Tamriel there was a considerable amount of both muddling up his head right now.

"Yes, I think I am," the first guard said firmly. "There's only one way to be sure. Try to Shout."

Aldanon closed his eyes to block out the curious and disbelieving stares directed at him and reached deep down, just as he'd tried to do the night before, to where the word he'd learned lay. This time though he noticed a difference.

Whereas before he'd known the word and knew what it meant in the human tongue now...now he truly _knew_ the word. Could see it and understand the true power of it as only a dragon could. Using that new understanding he focused all the power he could muster behind it, tilted his face towards the sky and unleashed it.

"Fus!"

A shockwave of energy blasted skyward, kicking up dust and debris all around him and buffeting those gathered around him.

"By the gods!" One man cried. "What manner of power was that?"

"Thu'um," Aldanon replied as a grin split his face. "The power of the Dovahkiin, one with the Blood and Soul of the Dragon within them. Like Reman...and Tiber Septim."

"I never heard of Tiber Septim slaying any dragons," one guardsman said as he examined the dragon's remains.

"There weren't any dragons left by then, idiot," his fellow replied. "But now they're coming back for the first time in...forever."

"What do you say Irileth?" Someone asked. "You're being awfully quiet."

"Yeah, come on Irileth tell us! Do you believe in this Dragonborn business?"

The Dunmer woman stepped forward with a scowl on her face, one directed firmly in Aldanon's direction.

"Hmph," she scoffed. "Some of you would be better off keeping quiet than flapping your gums about matters you know nothing about."

"Here's a dead dragon," she continued. "And that is definitely something I can understand. Now we know we can kill them."

"But I don't need some mythical _Dragonborn_," she nearly spat the word like a curse. "Men brought these creatures down in the past and it will be _men_ that will bring them down once again."

"You wouldn't understand Housecarl," someone else said condescendingly. "You ain't a Nord."

"I've been all across Tamriel," Irileth snarled back. "I've seen plenty of things just as outlandish as _this_. I'd advise you to trust in the strength of your sword arm over _tales _and _legends_."

An uncomfortable silence followed her tirade as the guardsmen looked at each other in confusion, wondering just where the sheer venom in her voice stemmed from. Aldanon had an idea or two about it but decided it would be better to remain silent than poke _another_ hornet's nest so soon.

Before anyone could gather their wits to do or say anything further a sound like thunder clap shattered the relative peace of the plains, startling several of the men present. As they looked up in confusion, the sky being clear and cloudless for miles all around, something else could be heard over the lingering echoes.

Voices.

"DOVAHKIIN!"

As the men around him began breaking out in excited muttering Aldanon could only grin.

_'Yes,'_ he thought in satisfaction. _'Yes I am at last.'_

* * *

**A/N: Am I done finally? Yup, certainly looks like it. Well there you all go, I certainly hope it was worth the slightly extended wait. I put a fair amount of effort into making the dragon battle as epic as I could as a form of penance...hope it didn't fall flat.**

**Oh and yes, Mirmulnir did just do a barrel-roll. I cracked up so much when I first envisioned that situation that I just had to figure out some way to work it in and I'm moderately happy with the way it came out. There are going to be little references to other games and such scattered throughout the story, some subtle and others...probably not so much. I have a couple in earlier chapters already as a matter of fact so kudos to you if you can find them and recognize them for where they came from.**

**I would like to apologize again for the wait but I kinda lost my way around the time Aldanon got out of the Barrow (that scene with the guards outside Dragonsreach used to be quite a bit longer until I _really_ looked at it and realized just how stupid and pointless it was to drag it out so much) and around that time the Dragonborn DLC was FINALLY released for the PS3. Needless to say I buffed out my copy of Skyrim, loaded up my epic character (lvl 80 Khajiit assassin-type character) and proceeded to tear into everything Solstheim had to offer. I don't think I've had so much fun since the moment I created my first character and began exploring Skyrim. It is an awesome throwback to TES: Morrowind era with the way many of the quests play out at times and the sheer size of some of those dungeons...at least they seemed much larger than most of the ones you encounter in standard Skyrim.**

**It is official now. Dragonborn SHALL be a part of Aldanon's tale in the future, probably in the sequel (**The Depths of Chaos, **the tales of Aldanon's exploits in the days after his defeat of Alduin) and altered to fit the circumstances I shall be shaping. As a matter of fact, how about a little teaser? No? Too bad! I've been up for 27 hours and am running on adrenaline, sugar and caffeine right now. I feel the urge to WRITE!**

**!POSSIBLE DRAGONBORN DLC SPOILERS FOLLOW!**

**What follows is a heavily altered version of the Dragonborn's first face to face meeting with Miraak, tailored to fit Aldanon as he will be. I will try to keep spoilers for both the DLC and my own story to a bare minimum. Thank you for your time.**

_'I feel violated,'_ Aldanon thought with a shudder as he tried to brush off the phantom sensations of Mora's tentacles wrapping around him.

As the buzzing in his ears died down he heard a voice close by speaking.

"The time comes soon when-"

His eyes began to adjust next and he found himself staring at the back of a fairly tall human, close to his own height if not slightly taller, garbed in an impressive looking set of robes as he spoke to two of Mora's Seekers.

One of the Seekers gurgled something in whatever language Mora saw fit to teach them and the man turned in surprise, a blast of lightning leaping from his hands and crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

Aldanon deflected the lightning with ease and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Hello to you too. Is this how you treat all your guests?"

"Pendragon?" The man asked in surprise. "My apologies, I hadn't thought you would be here so soon or I would have prepared a more suitable welcome."

"No need to apologize, I simply couldn't pass up the chance to meet the fabled First Dragonborn face to face," Aldanon replied airily. "Miraak, I presume?"

"Indeed," Miraak replied. "I've been wanting to meet you for quite some time as well, Aldanon Pendragon. Hermaeus Mora has spoken highly of you in the past. The slayer of Alduin, a Dragonborn with the power of a god at his beck and call."

"Has he now?" Aldanon drawled curiously. "Funny thing that, he never mentioned you. Been holding out on me has he?"

The Seekers bristled at his words, perhaps perceiving a slight to their master but Miraak merely shrugged. "Most likely but, as you and I well know, it is simply his nature to do so."

"True enough," Aldanon agreed with a long suffering sigh.

"But enough about my _master_ and his faults," Miraak said, getting down to business at last. "I did not ask you here to discuss him, or Alduin or any of the other deities for that matter."

"So that just begs the question," Aldanon said. "What then, did you wish to discuss?"

Aldanon could not see Miraak's face thanks to his mask but he could hear the grin in his tone and feel it in his emotions. "I wish to discuss...you. What would you say if I proposed a challenge to you?"

Aldanon was quiet as he considered the matter. He had suspected that Miraak had some ulterior motive for inviting him directly into Mora's realm for a face-to-face meeting and this merely served to confirm it. What the man's angle was however remained unclear.

His apparent ability to command Mora's Seekers spoke of a great deal of power and influence so the question became "What does Miraak hope to gain by challenging the Prince of Madness?"

And there was only one way to find out, one simple answer.

"I'm listening."

**!END OF POSSIBLE DRAGONBORN SPOILERS!**

**Well there you go, a taste of what may be. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**A/N Mk II: Nothing major that anyone who's read it already has to worry about but in my exhaustion induced delirium I'd somehow forgotten to add in the page break lines so that's been fixed. Once again, hope you enjoyed it.**


	8. Notice, Obviously Not A Chapter

**Notice**

**Sorry for getting your hopes up but as you all can plainly see this is not the next chapter many of you have been waiting for. Normally I wouldn't do this, I think this is actually forbidden by site rules or something though I don't care enough to check, but I need to get the word out considering how popular **The Edge of Madness **has become.**

**My computer has, yet again, broke on me. Unlike last time, where I eventually found out that all I needed to do was find a new operating system and had a friend willing to give me a copy of his, this, my power supply being shot completely, is actually going to require money to fix. Money that, sadly, I do not have to spare at the moment.**

**Again though as you can plainly tell I DO have access to a computer though it is severely restricted being my friend's laptop that he tends to use nearly as much as I used my desktop. Another wrench in the works is the fact that I do not have any backups of my current work and thus will have to restart the chapter, another Interlude chapter detailing Aldanon's shenanigans in Whiterun, from the eyes of others.**

**Needless to say my "chapter a month" policy is going to be taking something of a hit soon.**

**I will of course be working as often as possible but for the foreseeable future don't expect anything spectacular in terms of update speeds.**

**I would also appreciate if any of you would refrain from reviewing this chapter. As soon as I reconstruct the next chapter this will be gone and things will continue in an appropriate manner.**

**Thank you all and have a good month.**


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